His Scarlet Effect
by WizardsOfHogwarts
Summary: Grell feels like he lost a month's worth of his life and through a series of events, he discovers what true insanity is. But at the same time can he keep his own sanity intact? Grell/Will, Eric/Alan, Shifting POV, Graphic Violence
1. Obscure

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji

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><p><em>Dainty fingers clutched the fountain pen. "Write. Report your mission to me." He stared at William in utter confusion.<em>

He remembered that day. That day when he found himself strapped to a gurney, its bars were cold and unwelcoming, sharing the same atmosphere in the same room. He remembered groaning and cracking a few bones while to trying to stretch himself free of the slumber in his eyes. His eyes. He remembered opening them, only find his vision was as crystal clear as a pond and not as murky as the depths of the ocean. The candle that illuminated room had wax that was dangerously low, threatening to snuff out any second.

_William got up from his seat next to Grell and walked away. "Write whatever you can."_

He couldn't help but remember a pair of emerald, green eyes, both vibrant and delicate, stare back at him when looked to his left.

He remembered his stomach lurching and his head turning to the other side, his mouth unleashing a large amount whatever was in his innards all over the stone floor.

_After a few minutes, with his hand slightly cramping, _ _he wrote on the margin,'That was my dream'__, and took a fresh, new parchment to hand and wrote once more._

-...-

It was a simple mission. A single soul on the To Die List was an easy and fair task for Grell, so easy, he took the List from William's desk without a moment's hesitation. _Just one soul this time, at least it's work I'll get done fast,_ he thought when he flew over the rooftops like a gazelle. It was a rare opportunity for a reaper to reap only one soul for a full 24 hours, normally it would be twenty or more at the maximum. Being at Grell's rank, the numbers were higher. And being at Grell's demoted rank, the quantity sky-rocketed to his displeasure.

_His hand scribbled atop the parchment in a frenzy. So much to write, so much to say. Or was there?_

He remembered it was the dead of night, he spotted a faint glow in the distance and raced towards it; the Cinematic Record was left alone, long enough for the Record to float languidly to the sky. He approached it and landed onto the concrete sidewalk that acted as a doorstep to an alley. He came by an open window where the Record was floating through, the victim was in a building. The reaper hoisted himself on to the windowsill and gracefully slid in with on the sound of his cloak brushing against the wooden pane.

He remembered feeling a sinking feeling, both mentally and physically. A soft, gentle giggle came to his ears and he felt hands, more delicate than his own, lace fingers with his. It felt as though he was standing over water while he watched the Cinematic Record in the room glow more faint and then vanish ever so slowly. Was it a demon? No, it can't be, the presence of a demon's soul was nowhere near him. His scythe appeared at hand and he lashed out at the person holding his own hand.

_A shudder escaped his lips. "Ronald?" Where was he? Was he there? He swore he saw him there with him, along with Undertaker. He shook his head. No, he needed to focus on _that_ day. Not the night before, but _that_ day. How would he put this to words?_

He remembered screaming, wrenching his hand but not releasing the one holding it, but it wasn't the motion that made him scream; it was the fact that his fingers were entwined with a dismembered hand that seemed to clutch his. He began to hyperventilate, the sinking feeling becoming more and more prominent as he searched desperately for the one pulling such a horrid prank.

He remembered that his world turned into nothing but blackness.

_'And I found myself in my office after the dream...or was it a vision? He told me to write whatever, so I'm writing what I can.' Sleep began to fall upon him and eyes grew heavy, it was probably from the medication they injected through the ivy and needle. Languidly, his hand released the pen and dropped it to the stone floor, along with the clipboard and several papers._

-...-

He awoken to find himself sitting in his office wearing his regular clothes. He flinched at the sounds of people talking amongst each other and the ruffling of papers. His jaw rested on his hand though his mouth was open wide enough for saliva to drip down his chin. Perhaps feeling his own saliva down his chin simulated the blood. He looked ahead to find his red glasses sitting a foot away from him, waiting to be picked and placed onto the bridge of his nose. The sick feelings in his stomach suddenly vanished though his vision was a perfect 20/20.

He attempted to wear them but only found his vision obscured and the lenses began to give him a headache. He removed them and had them hang around his neck by the chain. His scythe sat in its usual spot, the handle for the engine hung on a hook. He got up and staggered over towards the door, opening it cautiously and peering around. A reaper came by, uncaring of Grell's presence. "Hey, you!"

The reaper stopped in her tracks, holding a booklet and some clipboards. "Yes?"

"What time...no, what day is it?"

She stared at him as if he were a loon but replied,"It's eight o'clock at night, the first of August."

He nodded for her to continue on, she left. Grell fumbled through his coat pockets, pulling out a booklet and looking over the last soul he was to reap on his To Die List. "August...the first?" His brow creased in confusion. He felt as though he missed a week's worth of time. As though he were out of place. He shook his head and left his office door ajar, making his way for the only person to make sense of things.

-...-

William continued to work through a knock that wracked the door. "Come in." His pen never left the paper but it stopped when he looked up to see Grell in his usual outfit. A single flaw was pointed out by the supervisor. "Grell Sutcliff, you were just in here five minutes ago...is there a problem with the other assignment I gave you?" His cold eyes stared at Grell's.

"What are you talking about? I wasn't here five minutes ago! And what assignment?" he whined, but William thought the troublemaker was playing a game so his response to the seemingly odd outburst was,"Where are your important glasses?"

"I don't need them, they were giving me a headache every time I tried to wear them." He tucked a stray strand of hair behind an ear and yawned slightly. "My eyes see fine, I can see every detail of you, Will...from a small hair out of place to that piece of lint of your shoulder." William looked to his left and saw a speck on his suit, he swiftly plucked it out and then got a comb to align his hair properly. When he was done keeping a quick, self-maintenance, Grell looked at him. "Now, I want to know something."

"Say it, I'll pay you attention but be quick."

"Who collected the soul I was given yesterday?" he asked. There was no other way he could put it, if he tried to say it subtly, then William would grow suspicious. It was blunt but it was strait to the point; Grell didn't feel like playing word games with William today. William stared at him, giving him the same look the female reaper gave him minutes ago. "Well?"

"No one collected it, Sutcliff," William answered, he looked slightly concerned and motioned for Grell to approach him. He done so and the redhead complied, going around the desk and to William's side. "Let me see your eyes."

Grell got to his knees and was eye level with William's chest, though he looked up at him. William bent slightly, cupping Grell's cheek his his hand and examining Grell's eyes closely. Suddenly, pulled away. "You have the eyes of a human, it's as though your Shinigami eyes have changed to such a state. I am sure that I did not demote you_ that_ far down to a point of where you are almost human. I shall give your assignment to someone else if your eyes can not see souls pro-"

"I can...I can do it, " Grell stated, standing up from his spot,"I'll go do...um, what did you want me to do?"

"I gave you the papers five minutes ago, don't tell me you lost them...again." Grell shook his head. "You better not lie...again. Have Ronald Knox come with you for extra personal, I would not want to deal with a reaper who have suddenly lost his perception of Cinematic Records and souls and suddenly let demons take hold of a soul. Overtime will not work well."

"Um, can you refresh my memory on who I am to reap?"

William raised an eyebrow. "It is only one soul if that is the only hint you wish for."

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><p>AN: And here we go~! Creepy to have eyeballs staring at you.

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	2. The Night's Agenda

Disclaimer: I don't own Kuroshitsuji

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><p>"...so the party's gonna be at Lacey's in a bit," Ronald nodded to the receptionist, who nodded, jotting down notes and kept up with him. She looked at him, a tint of red smearing her cheeks as he gave her a flirtatious wink. "You gonna be there?"<p>

She smiled back at him as he began to leave. "Of course I am," she breathed out, when his back was turned, she turned to face her companion at the two-seated desk and burst out into a fit of giggles. Ronald smirked at his handiwork, tucking a piece of paper into his breast pocket. _Works every time._ He strutted down the main entrance, catching the eyes of several other ladies who eyed him like Catholic schoolgirls, pointing and tittering at him. He strode past a group, but he took his sweet time, slowing his gait and blowing a small kiss at them while giving a curt cock of his head upwards.

One of them screamed like a rabid fan towards an actor while another fainted. "Oh~! Knox~!"

Starstruck? That was his daily living at the office, flirting his way to the top but also keeping a humble image so that he would be popular and respected. The minute he appeared in this workplace, he instantaneously caught attention and was eye candy for all the ladies here and there. His playful attitude, his good looks, his known strength, who wouldn't want a piece of that? He shook his head slightly, bobbing it and letting a tuft of his bangs go to the side.

An office worker sighed at him, but then a voice broke the momentum of his cool act.

"Ronnie! Ronald! Ronaaaaaald~!" Grell called towards him. "Sorry to break up your catwalk here!"

The daily flirtatious ritual Ronald Knox performed was cut short at the sight of Grell. "Hm?" He looked over his should before turning around. "Grell?"

The redhead looked like a train wreck to him, as though he hadn't gotten decent sleep for days, weeks, perhaps even a month. Grell would normally have himself primped up for the day but he seemed to have lacked that scent that indicated he done so. His hair was array and his bow tie hung loosely, the strand of cloth draped around his neck and seemed to hold to him languidly. His normally white dress shirt wasn't tucked in neatly, it hung out in the front, barely tucked in the back, and had a button or two loose.

But Ronald was not shocked, he saw the red reaper early that morning while delivering documents to William's office, passing by and waving. However, Grell didn't return a wave or smile to him that time. Perhaps a wild night last night? Yeah, that must be it. Instead of perfume, he caught the scent of some sort of alcohol Grell though it seemed highly unladylike of him. He shrugged of the disjointed features but couldn't help but inquire,"Did you drink last night?"

Grell stared at him, then shook his head,"I can't even remember what _happened_ last night to begin with!"_ Or the past...however long for the matter._

So being drunk is a high probability. Check that on the list.

"Will told you to help me with a mission tonight."

Ronald rolled his eyes, sighing and taking a hand behind his neck to scratch it casually. "Well, you see, Grell...I got this party, y'know. It's gonna be at Lacey's and everything and stuff. Y'know, and...well, y'know!" Obviously talking himself out of a mission assigned by a higher ranking officer, though a demoted one was accepted as well, was not a wise choice. "A party!"

"Missing one party isn't gonna kill you, Ronnie. It's only one soul to reap and that's it," Grell weakly smiled at him, he seemed exhausted enough to not show off his pearly whites,"please?"

"Fine, I'll go. You're lucky I only have papers to push today." He walked on with Grell at his side. "Besides, what's up with one soul? I mean, with holidays coming in later, thought there'd be more than just one for you." Grell shrugged. Ronald's hand stretched out as they past a door, a reaper automatically handed him a file. "I got twenty yesterday. Man, all suicides too. Can't believe humans can be so...selfish." He opened the file. "Oh, great...a train wreck is scheduled for this Sunday and Handson's gonna have the bar reserved for us."

Grell made a weak laugh at the whine,"Knowing you, it seems that you're the one who's got the bar reserved for yourself every time you enter." He knew that after missions, Ronald would often invite a few ladies and spend nearly up to midnight drinking with them, sometimes Grell would tag along if there was nothing else to do. "There's no difference."

"Yeah there is, I don't need to pay."

They both laughed at that, though Grell calmed down faster. Ronald looked over at him. "Hey, your important glasses aren't on you. Do you want Will to beat you again? You're asking for it if you get on his neat side." When he meant neat, he meant obsessively composed for uniformity in workers..._all_ workers. Grell waved off the question, even his gloves were not on his hands.

"No, he...he told me I could go without them for the day, I had a headache and those glasses were giving me them. I might need a different prescription since my eyesight improved." He squinted ahead of himself. Whatever that vision was, whether dream or reality, it was sudden instinct to avoid the use of his glasses. He knew it was necessary to wear them but they seemed to be useless for him now. Ronald looked at him, then let out a snickered. "What's wrong?"

A gloved finger went to the bridge of Grell's nose. "You got a tan line there."

"So?" he scoffed. "I bet you that every reaper in this Library has a tan line on their noses regardless how pale they are!" His hands were at his hips and he looked away, head raised in a defiant manner. "Hmph!" He strutted on, going faster than Ronald until there was a strangled cry from one of the bookkeeping rooms. They hurried their paces and saw books scattered about and a chocolate haired reaper curled up on the floor, clutching his chest and spluttering blood from his mouth. He let out a another held back cry as Eric came inside, pushing Ronald to the side. "Alan!"

Eric was at Alan's side immediately, scooping him up in his arms and then carrying him out. "Hey, Sutcliff, Knox, fix those books there!" The blond man nearly skidded on the smooth surface of the flooring as he rushed off, carrying the ill Alan to the Infirmary. The area went quiet and gave the two room to move. It was becoming more and more common for Alan's attacks to occur and workers were aware of his situation, remaining respectful of them. This attack was only a week apart from the last one of Ronald could recall as he and Grell gathered the fallen books.

"Will they ever cure Alan?" he asked, being the newest there, he was rather unfamiliar with the health risks of reapers. While reapers were depicted as Gods, they seemed to have limitations; a terminal illness such as the Thorns of Death was equivalent to cancer for them as it is to humans. Once the books were neatly stacked on a nearby table, working pace of reapers returned to normal within seconds.

"The Thorns of Death...such a horrible tragedy for our kind." Grell described in a breathtaking way. "It's one of the many things that are taught at the Academy if you can remember it freshly. Never show sympathy for souls that you've collected. Doing so may...allow souls to influence our bodies, eventually...some souls that were lost will gather around your heart..." He placed a hand on Ronald's torso. "...and be inches away, the thorns they create form the wreathe around your heart."

His fingers danced slowly towards the left side of his chest. "It's revenge they wish to wrought down upon any reaper who's decided to take up the burden of...wanting a taste of the pain those poor souls have gone through. When they are close enough." His fingers clenched and he formed a ball in his fist. "...they'll crush that beating heart we have and we die."

He backed away, giving him space. "There is no cure for this, really...it is the soul's decision to latch to Alan's body, eating away at him like a parasite and all. Of course, these aren't normal souls, these souls are actually the ones who never learned to accept life, they're the kinds that scream for someone to notice them, and Alan did so. It's not that he _intentionally_ lets them into him...he just happens to be near them."

Ronald nodded. "I see where it goes then."

It was quiet between the two until Ronald made it to his office, being a high ranked Officer despite his age, he sighed,"Well, I need to concentrate. I'll meet you at the courtyard at...what time is your soul reaped at?"

"I can't remember."

"Alright, six...seven...seven thirty, how's that sound?"

The sound of numbers made something click in his mind. "The dead of the night," he uttered, Ronald leaned closer to hear him,"what?"

"It happened passed midnight!" Grell managed to get out, a peculiar stare was what he earned from the blond.

He asked,"When what happened?" Grell snapped his attention to him, but waved his hand at it. "Alright...that gives me time to go to the party and leave. When do we meet?" Grell looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Two in the morning," he answered for him,"I need to go check on a few things...oh, and what's the day today?" Though he asked the question earlier, he wanted to have a reality check of what was going on. Ronald looked down at his watch, apparently, the expensive piece had the ability to tell time and also read the date. He was given this watch by Alan during his birthday as a way to keep track of time. Nowadays, the blond was on schedule about forty percent of the time, which was an improvement compared to being off eighty percent.

"It's August the first." Grell reached into his vest, pulling out a gold pocket watch lined with rubies to see the time. It stated to be twelve o'clock. "I'll see you then. Toodles, Ronnie~!"

He turned heel, blowing a kiss to Ronald, and walked on. But as he turned a corner, he slowed in his pace considerably. He had only two hours to be there, it was enough time to clean himself. He walked slower, his brows furrowing in contemplation, an arm was across his chest as another was propped on it while his fingers caressed his chin. He had a slight feeling earlier but now it was becoming more apparent. It was as though he lost track a portion of his life but was remembering little flashes of it. The numbers Ronald mentioned of time was only a small trigger and contributed to a tiny part of the puzzle that he was trying to piece together.

The dead of the night. He remembered that. And the soul he was to collect. But William assigning him another single soul? That wasn't right. Hell, he never done the paperwork for the first soul last night!

He made it to his own office, searching for the information William claimed to have given him; after about ten minutes, he found a folder labeled August 1, 1887. His eyes scanned the only page within it, and it matched the description of the other soul he thought to have collected last night. He looked at his To Die List, the same person was there and it didn't update itself. There was a bit of shock. "...souls don't appear twice, now do they?" he wondered aloud. He placed the folder down and stared down at it.

He swore that he received the same soul yesterday evening.

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><p>AN: Ha ha, I need sleep so badly! I wonder what Grell thinks of this.

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	3. Midnight

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshituji

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><p>It was near midnight and Grell had just finished bathing himself for a good hour. His hair was in a loose braid when he tossed his clothes into the hamper, he looked into the mirror and got a good look at his face. Compared to being greasy and disgustingly hideous prior to the bath, he looked much cleaner and fresher. A sigh escaped his lips, he was satisfied and content, his disorientation beginning to wade away but his curiosity had grown stronger. Donning a red, silk bathrobe, he left his bathroom and to his room.<p>

Being a room at the corner of the dormitories, he was given two windows on two walls to his left and to his front. One set looked over the edge of a courtyard (Ronald's room could be seen on the other side of it) while the other provided a view of the ocean. To contrast each other further, when the sun sets, it leaves a shade of red on the walls on the ocean's side while the courtyard side would grow a bit darker when it slowly shifts from dusk to night. It was like that song he heard of that reminded him of Sebastian and himself, always mixing and yet never blending together as one. Now, the scenery was nothing but black save for the tiny dots of lights outside.

He smiled, his bare feet brushing over the burgundy plush carpet as he went to his bookshelf.

His hand traced each spine until he found the appropriate book he wanted to read while waiting for his hair to dry. He plopped himself on to his twin bed and laid there on his stomach, looking through the pages and chapters. Just as he found the appropriate page, there was a knock on his door. "Come iiiiiiiiin~!" his voice rang, he looked up to see Eric, who looked slightly tired. "Oh, Eric, what brings you to my lovely home? This is embarrassing, I don't have any clothes on...what will Alan think of you if your eyes gazed upon my skin and not his?"

"Shut up," Eric uttered, eyes averting from the nearly naked Grell. Truth be told, he was thankful for seeing Grell's upper half but if the redhead sat up any straighter, he'd be seeing something he would want to gag at. "Have you seen Alan's Cinematic Records? The ones he dropped before he attacked?" The term 'attacked' was used among workers to let others know of Alan's condition.

"Why, sure, Eric...they're sitting on the table in the bookkeeping he was at."

Eric gave a quick nod and a thank you, closing the door behind him and leaving. Grell stole a glance at the clock on his wall and stood up, stretching a bit while a sleeve of his robe fell out of place. The big hand was on the six while the little one was on the twelve, his eyebrows quirked up in mild interest as if the clock was a steeple chase and then turned his attention back to the book.

_'Reapers are known for the ability to see the future. While this remarkable ability is useful to many, it is limited to those that are pure reapers and not those who had human origins. There is also a limit to how much of the future is seen due to visions being vague. Uses for this are mainly for to-be-deceased humans...'_

Grell knew that his so called 'vision' was not vague at all but felt that it was reality to a point of where he could close his eyes and see the cold, stone walls. Eyes wandering from the page, he took the book and walked to the shelf, leaving it there among its fellow companions of smutty romance novels and journals he collected over the years. Of course, these journals were not his but of maidens he grew fond of with their Cinematic Records. Only a good fourth of them came from Madam Red. _Bless her heart._ He knew her story, he viewed her Cinematic Record with that infuriating brat of a nephew but the bittersweet story was sweeter when he read her personal records.

He gazed at the velvet spines and then took off his robe to clothe himself. There was a slight pause when he saw his left wrist, he paused with an arm through one sleeve. His fingers twitched slightly as if reacting to something, then he had the sudden urge to vomit. He gagged, a sickening feeling rising from stomach to mouth, and ran to the bathroom, getting to his knees as if for prayer and thrusting his head into the loo.

Hands gripping the seat, they shook as his head spun.

"Fuck!" he screamed out, voice echoing and rebounding off the walls after relieving his stomach. He thrust his head upwards towards the ceiling, his breath labored as though he ran around the world seven times. Pupils in his eyes became dilated and he strained his mind as it raced faster than he could process the memory.

Rough fingers were laced to his on both hands, but a third hand grabbed a tuft of hair behind his head and used it as leveraged to shove his head back into the bowl. The stench of his own innards made his stomach whirl around, his feet trashed about as the unseen force made him remain where his head was, just centimeters away from the bridge of his nose touching the water. He wanted to scream again, but when he attempted to do so, he was suddenly released from the grip. He instantly thew himself back, landing on his bottom and panting, the back of his hand whipped at his mouth.

His eyes searched his bathroom anxiously, but there was nothing over or under anything. The only sights were his loo, clawed bathtub, and a sink. Among such things was a wardrobe where he kept extra clothes and other items used for bathing. On a shelf near the tub were numerous bottles of perfumes and jars of lotion. Small boxes that held jewelry or other cosmetics were there as well, pearched on the shelf and nearly overflowing. But besides such a cluttered bathroom, there was nothing else but him and the sound of his rapidly slow breaths.

Cautiously, he managed to get to his feet with the help of holding to the edge of the tub. He got to his feet, adjusting so that he wore his dress shirt properly. He swept the bathroom again to make sure he was alone, and yet, he still felt insecure, as though he was in another dimension.

The disorientation he was experiencing was not helping either. He turned the faucet to his sink on and washed his face. With the water running, he popped a pill dispenser of pain relievers, taking three into his mouth and drinking water from his hand. His eyesight began to focus more and he looked at the mirror ahead of him. His image was clear as the night sky tonight, he still wondered why he never needed his glasses. They sat at the edge of the shelf full of cosmetics, waiting to be worn. He reached to it and placed them into a case, thinking that he would need it later on.

As the pills began to take affect over a course of thirty minutes, he pocketed the pill dispenser into his inner coat pocket and redressed himself, starting again with his pants.

-...-

Alan laid in bed once more for the fifth time that month. He was beginning to feel miserable, not at his condition, but at the fact that he was one of the most useless reapers in the entire Shinigami Realm. Not that he was a slacker and utter annoyance to his team, he was simply a hindrance to the workforce, prompting everyone to keep his health at top priority, second to reaping souls. The plush comforters surrounded him, he realized that he still wore his uniform, save for the blazer, vest, and dress shoes. Even his armbands and bolo tie were gone. The articles of clothing were folded neatly on a chair nearby. He took a deep breath in and exhaled it, testing his ability to breathe and was satisfied that was normal.

"Eric?" Alan asked, voice dry and parched from the lack of water. He opened his eyes to look to the right, seeing Eric sitting by with a book in hand. It was a different book but one from the same series Eric grew to love reading. The blond's eyes shifted to Alan's and he nodded towards a stack of books that was on a nightstand. How kind of the cocky bastard. There was always something by the desk, on occasion there would be nothing. "Thanks."

Eric shrugged. "No problem. You alright to get up?"

Alan got up with ease. Normally, it would be a pain in the ass to even lift an arm, bringing his body to become strained rather quickly. Looks like the Thorns of Death were calmed for the night. He stretched his arms out, popping a bone and earning an alert and surprised look from Eric. "Honestly, there's no need to flinch at everything. I'm fine, see?"

Instinctively, he reached for his glasses and slid them to his face with ease. "Yeah, yeah...just..._a habit_," Eric murmured quietly, though Alan caught every word. Smirking and letting a loose, subtle snort, the brunette grabbed his tie and vest. "William heard about your attack, said that the shift is going to someone else in the department...maybe Ivan will take care of it. You, my friend, will stay here for the rest of the night."

"Eric, I hadn't reaped since the last time I had an attack," Alan frowned at the news when his bolo tie was around his neck,"but...I'll admit being a paper pusher is boring."

"Hm? The great Alan claims that documents are boring?" Eric laughed under his breath. "I thought I'd never hear you say that."

_Oh, I say it a lot, you just don't hear me._ He shook his head, smiling while placing his vest on, buttoning up the satin buttons one by one. "And you like them?"

He got up, Eric done so as well, and reached for th stack of books but the larger reaper swatted his hands away. "No, Alan, let me do it." With his novel sent away, he picked up the stack without difficulty. "Where were these supposed to go?"

"In Bookkeeping F32, in the West Wing," Alan answered, knowing the names of the rooms by heart. It never ceased to amaze his companion of his vast knowledge of the place even though he became a full reaper no longer than a century ago. Compared to William, he seemed to be the next one in line for a promotion though his illness prevented such a thing from happening. Eric knew of that through eavesdropping on a meeting by accident between William and an Elder from the Council of the Ministry of Hades. Eric refrained himself from telling Alan this, among many other things. Then again, things were meant to be left to be unknown.

They made their way out of the Infirmary, it was after hours and the nurses had left. Only two to five reapers were occupying some of the beds, each suffering from a broken limb, a fever, or wounds received from freak accidents. One groaned in pain but the two high ranked reaper passed without a word. After several minutes, they were in the hallway, heading towards a lift that would send them to the second floor.

-...-

A drink was passed to Ronald, but he passed on it coolly. "Nah, I'd rather be sober now," he shooed away the drink,"going on a mission later, you guys."

There was a disapproving groan from the crowd. Some reapers were hammered, wanting to get the ever tolerant alcoholic to break his limit in brandy and have him in a round of fun. They knew it took Ronald to build a high tolerance level despite his size and the amount he would often drink. Lacey, a slick, smooth talker of a womanizer approached him, two ladies from the office at his side. Arms were wrapped around waists as he boasted,"Oh, c'mon, Knox, I know you love parties and I know you attract everyone there. Looks like parties are attracted to you rather than you are to them! Live more here! Drinks are on the house!"

Ronald gave a calculating glance at the drink, then shrugged,"To hell with it! One more, yeah!" He held it up and the crowd roared in approval as he drank it. It grew quiet. "Well? Why're you all so quiet?"

It was common for him to be the life of parties such as these. The group began to disperse back to do various things such as gambling, drinking, or enjoying each other's companies. Ronald only sat at the bar though Lacey himself kept his company. His two lady friends were hammered enough as it is, acting a bit more exposing than normal. The buttons to their dress shirts were undone to their chests, leaving Ronald or any other man to have a look see at their cleavage. One of the ladies he recognized was the one from the reception, Samantha, who always gave him shortcuts around papers for his scythe.

The two had an on and off relationship but they relied on one another often. Ronald wanted to keep it that way between the two. She eyed him hungrily, her voice was filled with lust as she left Lacey's side to attempt to charm Ronald. A finger went to his tie, tracing the edge of the silk while saying,"You know, I let you through with your death scythe yesterday...and the day before...and the day before...and so on, why not say what you promised me? Hm?" She leaned on him, lips at his ear to whisper. "It'll be just like _those_ times. Why not have a bit of fun with me?"

"Hm?" An eyebrow quirking up in mild interest at her offer. This wasn't the first time she tried to tempt him. He looked at his watch, only another hour until he had to meet Grell. It had been a while since he had any sort of rough fun with anyone, and a certain anatomy was begging to let him have it. Her hand was automatically there, tending to him and he let out a quit groan. They were lucky to have a stool blocking her hand movements and acting as a natural censor. Lacey left the two, leading his own lady away.

"Well, I got an hour left," he huskily breathed to her, another sip from his drink and he knew he would be having one too many to focus. He placed the mug to the bar and leaned towards her to claim her lips. Their lips were hot to the touch and he groaned again, tasting the brandy in her mouth and trying to get every bit of the flavor. She responded in a moan, pressing herself against him and the hand at his tie loosened it considerably. It was only a moment after that he ripped away from her a bit too roughly, though he figured she would care less about that. His hand moved from the mug to her slim waist. "Back room?"

"Back room," she whispered to him, he grinned and let her lead him towards the back of the bar. The door was open for anyone wanting to have a quick time, courtesy of the bar owner. "I'll just give you one hell of an hour then, Ronald Knox."

"I'll bet my scythe on that."

-...-

Grell eyed the courtyard wearily. His eyes were in perfect condition but he lacked the means to see through the night and, as a result, was utterly blind at times during the night. He was in luck that there was a full moon without clouds in both the Human Realm and the Shinigami Realm. A sigh escaped his lips. It was usual for Ronald to be late, perhaps by five minutes but by half an hour? Grell whimpered slightly, sitting on a bench and taking out his pocket watch to view the time again. "And that watch will help him my ass," he scoffed.

He looked ahead and saw a familiar figure advancing upon him. Grell sat up straighter and examined it further. "Ronald?"

The blond was at his side after a few minutes, his hair was askew and his clothes seemed to be thrown on to him hurriedly. Grell caught a strong whiff of brandy and sex, the wide grin on the younger reaper's face only made the evidence even stronger and point out what had happened. "Enjoyed your night, did you?" Grell giggled. "She seemed to be wild on you."

"Yeah, pretty much," he answered, his voice deeper by an octave,"ready?"

Grell nodded. "Oh, Ronnie, darling?"

"Yeah?"

"...your zipper on your trousers."

Ronald felt down below his belt. "Oh."

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	4. Will o' Wisp

Disclaimer: I don't own Kuroshitsuji

A/N: In the manga, Grell never appears throughout the entire story until the Boat Investigation Arc where he finally appears with his Death Scythe. This would lead me to think that Grell probably was demoted but not relieved of his scythe. So...I'll have him with a scythe. Also, the Thorns of Death was something that Yana (creator of Kuro) developed, so I would want to say this is cannon to the series itself. Then again, it was a musical but there really should be more reapers in Kuro.

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><p>William's eyes grew heavy but he continued to strain them to view the last document for the night. A quiet sigh escaped his his pursed lips as he signed, the tip of the satin fountain pen gliding across the dotted line at the bottom. It was an approval form for Alan to remain in the same status, unmoving to anything higher than where he was. About eighty years ago, Alan was fresh out of the Academy as an Honors Student, being proper, fallowing protocol, and being a functional worker. William would have loved to have the young reaper work by his side not as a common one but as a Supervisor.<p>

But his health was always in the way; it weighed him down like a rock would do to a bird.

In secret, he deliberately forced his entire team of Officers (consisting of Grell Sutcliff, Ronald Knox, Eric Slingby, and Alan Humphries) to remain at the same ranks in order for everyone to keep in close contact so that they can easily monitor Alan. Unfortunately, he, being a law-abiding reaper, fallowed regulations and demoted Grell after the Jack the Ripper incident. And then after Grell's demotion, Ronald was promoted to Officer; being a new addition to the team means to start off as a Dispatcher, which was what Grell had been demoted to.

While he may have access to his Death Scythe, he was limited to its use.

William was about to sit up from his desk until he spotted another document, he reached out for it, reading it as a release for a new prescription of glasses for Eric. He signed it as well and placed it in a basket where the finished work was placed. _At least the amount of people are even. Grell is lucky to have kept his place with me._

When he meant _place with me_, he meant being one of the top teams of reapers in the Dispatch Society. Being an Officer comes with numerous benefits such as their own rooms, offices, and numerous privileges that fit such a status. Directly above that was Supervisor, that was William, a workaholic that scared many novices away and was only braved by the flamboyant Grell, the laid-back Ronald, the fierce Eric, and the appropriate Alan. He adjusted his glasses to perfection, the damn spectacles had a nasty habit of slipping the bridge of his nose, and stood up.

He took his death scythe and a portfolio, blew out a candle, and left his office. It was dark in the hallways save for the lamps on the stone walls, this was enough to see where one were to go. He readjusted his glasses and briskly stormed the hallway. Now that he was done with what his occupation called for, he finally had the time to satisfy what his curiosity was begging him to fulfill.

At around eight o'clock, he witnessed a relatively normal Grell enter his office and graciously take an assignment without hesitation. William never saw anything out of the ordinary, not that Grell was normal to begin with, and returned to his work. However, when the big hand hit the two on his clock, a very disoriented and out of place Grell came back. He looked as though he traveled to Hell and back while the Devil himself clung to his hair. What was really astonishing was his eyes. Normally sparkly with life and passion, they were lifeless and dull, which could be compared to a human's.

In fact, they were the eyes of one.

As demotion ranks go down, so do certain physical abilities such as the power to transfer between places and the communication with animals. William did not remember that there was such a rank that required reaper eyes to be switched with a humans. It was reserved for the worse of rank, and Grell was not_ that_ bad when compared to other reapers that William had witnessed over the years.

After a few minutes, William found himself staring at the wooden door of Grell's office. He opened it, finding that the office was in somewhat working order. The redwood desk was in front of him with a red leather chair sitting back, tucked in its place under the desk. Two bookcases were to the right while an assortment of plants known as Venus Flytraps, which William found disgusting, and an orchid were facing the window. A velvet colored carpet was laid out, William stepped in and closed the door, avoiding the stacks of Cinematic Records Grell had been reviewing for unknown reasons.

Then again, these could possibly be the souls that Grell failed to file in to the Library the past month or so; he made a mental note to punish Grell for this.

He examined the plants, though they seemed to be of little harm, and went to Grell's desk. There were numerous, unorganized paperwork and documents that lacked a signature and stamp. Among these was a small jar that was slightly opened, though it was opened even further for William to reach to fingers in and pull out a small piece of chocolate. Ge threw a glance at the window and door before placing it into his mouth and thoroughly enjoying the sweet richness of the coca. Personally, he had a soft spot for chocolate on occasion and would sometimes sneak in to nab a piece from Grell's office.

With the piece rolling around his tongue, he turned his attention at the papers once more. He found that the exact same paper regarding the single soul was there, it stood out in the crowd since he easily recognized it. His hands shuffled some of the papers to make them neat as he noticed something odd regarding the atmosphere. Nose wrinkling, he fallowed that familiar scent from the air he was in to the chair; he pulled it out and sat in it, moving slightly to be comfortable. Oddly, the scent grew stronger.

Wine?

But Grell was not the type to drink alcohol, not even the higher classed ones. The cross dresser always stated that it was highly unladylike to drink.

It was strong and not one of the many scents Grell carried. Yes, over the years, William had grown accustomed to the many assortments of Grell's numerous scents regarding perfumes. He only calculated that there were over seventy-eight types of perfumes Grell owned and only a good twenty of them were combined from time to time. He forgot why he memorized such a simple thing, perhaps it was out of the need for personal and subtle amusement? He would, at times, smile inwardly to himself when he proudly identified the perfume used without anyone knowing when Grell would come bounding into the office.

The Supervisor concentrated on the scent, it lingered until another one came by to his nostrils.

It was the stinging aroma of decaying flesh. And it began to grow stronger for some reason, causing his eyes to tear up. Two fingers went to his eyes to rub the tears away as he whimpered slightly,"What in the name of...damn..." His toes bumped the inside of the desk and he pushed himself away, covering his nose and then opening his eyes to glance around for the source. Immediately, he got up and went to the window, opening it and allowing the air to circulate. He opened Grell's door as well and took a great whiff of the air out in the hallway.

"Gods," he murmured, not many would enter anyone's office, door opened or not. Besides, the office's rules required the privacy of every worker to be respected while ironically William was breaking the set in stone rule by entering Grell's workspace to begin with. He took another breath and then entered the room after a few minutes. The stench lingered but was more faint, allowing William to tolerate it to his utmost potential. He glanced at the clock and then began his investigation once more.

-...-

An incoherent yawn escaped Grell as him and his companion flew across the rooftops, Ronald was explaining his night at the party rather casually. Saying that he had a simple make out session with Samantha made Grell think other wise; the fact that his zipper was down and he smelled strongly of sex made him giggle at Ronald's subtle way of trying to tell the events. They were leaping over alleys side by side, separating only when there was a chimney or a large structure and then coming back to one another.

"Just say it out loud, darling, there's nothing to be ashamed of!" Grell swooned, trying to rub the sleep from his eyes. They squeezed between two chimneys and sprinted even faster to their destination, Grell was beginning to remember that night once more. His cheery demeanor was replaced with a displaced attitude. The moon and stars were in a familiar position, the temperature and winds hitting his face were nipping his pale skin, and the buildings he passed were too similar to the ones before in a distant memory. He looked strait ahead as indicated in his mind and spotted a string of light floating upwards.

Ronald's attention snapped ahead, he squinted, saying,"I don't know if you can see, but I think that's a Cinematic Record!"

Grell nodded. Even the planks of wood that were used for the repairs of a roof emitted the same sound as before when his heel met it. His eyes wandered towards a clock tower that said it was half past two, the dead of night. In about thirty minutes, a human was about to loose their soul. They sprinted on, having a sudden silence overcome them as they neared the target. He blinked and the string of light grew faint. "Hm?"

He squinted once more and then sped passed Ronald, where did it go? It didn't vanish before. Like a wolf in pursuit of a deer, he went on until a tug happened at his tail, or coat, and he whirled his head around. Body fallowed head as he spin and skidding to a stop on the loose shingles of a roof. A few shingles came undone and cluttered to the street below. His hand clutched at the side, using it as a break before kicking off and launching himself to Ronald, who stood a building away. He landed gracefully by him.

"Sorry, just a bit tired is all," he chuckled slightly. In truth, he felt suddenly exhausted from sprinting from the Reaper Realm to the Human Real and then going on for thirty miles nonstop in thirty minutes. Normally he would go on like a battery, going nonstop for sixty times the distance they had taken. "U-hnm, Ronald, where's the Cinematic Record?"

Ronald stared at him as though he were mad. "Grell, it's floating by your head." He pointed bluntly at the strips that he was able to see perfectly fine; they were entwined and separating as they snaked towards the sky. Grell gave him a puzzling look, both confused and lost. "How about you stay here while I reap this one for you?"

"What? No! Absolutely not!" Grell took a step forward and began to free fall to the ground, Ronald gave a 'I tried to warn you' expression as he fell after him. Landing gracefully on the ground, though rather slightly painful to Grell's locked limbs in this strange case, Ronald spotted the source of the stray Cinematic Records to emit themselves from an opened window. He approached it slowly, though Grell was wiser and pipped up,"I think I'd rather abandon this mission."

"And let a demon take the soul? Not on my watch," he easily hopped in, hoisting himself on the windowpane and then entering gracefully. "You coming, Grell? Or do you wanna stay here?"

A nervous hand went to his lips so that his teeth could bite on them hesitantly. He thought of the horror waiting for him in the room above but did not mention it to Ronald. In fact, he didn't want the younger reaper to even enter the home. A thought crossed his mind. Perhaps what he dreamed about on his office desk was just a vision? A vision that foreshadowed the events that he anticipated to occur inside the very room Ronald was in gave him an uneasy vibe. Part of him wanted to turn and run, another wanted to test his vision's validity, and amongst those many parts was wanting to warn Ronald of the supposed danger.

"If you keep gawking at me, I might as well reap this one myself. Gimme your To Die List." A gloved hand stretched out towards Grell. "C'mon, I don't have all night...day...morning, whatever!"

Instead, the outstretched hand received a hand in return. Ronald found himself hauling Grell up to the ledge. He had a shy, almost nervous, expression, acting as though he were the incompetent servant of the late Angelina Durless; his breaths were slow and quiet but tentative, alert of his surroundings.

"Ronnie," Grell whispered, leaning closer towards the blond. In exchange, Grell was given a curious stare that seemed to try to comprehend Grell's sudden actions as though he wanted to prepare himself for one of Grell's elaborate jokes.

He let a quiet "Hn?" in response, nodding slightly.

Grell had a hand cupped to Ronald's ear to breath in a thin, quiet tone,"If you hear a whisper, I want you to run."

It was a deathly silence. The glow of the Cinematic Records and the moonlight were the only source of light in the furnished room. Moth eaten rugs and deteriorating wood of the cabinets and chairs showed that the residence was dead; even the scent of Death itself was in the air, catching on to the two reaper's noses. Like snakes from a center den from the entrance behind Ronald, they encircled near Grell, slipping by and then exciting through the open window. Some brushed against Ronald gently, as though mocking him. He never took his eyes off of Grell, but they wandered down to the nearest strip, catching a glance at the freeze frame of a wolf.

The creature inside seemed to be growling but the sound was not released, fangs bore and eyes glowed golden rod. Eventually, Ronald's attention was focused on it, wanting to turn away from his senior's sudden act of intimidation.

Grell slapped him gently. "Look here!" And his mind was back to Grell, who drew back, giving a smile. Ronald took two steps away from him, nearly entangling his foot in the snake like reel. "Sooooo~..." As quick as a rapid river, he changed his facial features to a bewildered Ronald and returned to his flamboyant self. "...just focus on the mission, alright?" He gave a reassuring wink to him, along with a small smile.

"..." The other one's eyebrow creased. "Are you...on something?"

But before anymore was said, Grell strode past him, catching glimpses of the Cinematic Record and using it as a guide to the entrance of the room. "Chop, chop, Ronnie. If you keep gawking at me," he turned to flash a toothy, Cheshire grin at Ronald,"I might as well reap this one myself." And he walked on, when his back turned, his grin faded away into an awful glare, as if challenging whatever he felt to a battle that meant death itself. He sensed a presence other than himself, Ronald, or even a soul on the matter. He knew the vibe of a demon but this was not one that fallowed the particular pattern.

"This is your mission," retorted Ronald, he went after him, fallowing the redhead down a termite infested hallway. The wallpaper was faded and crinkly, etching away from its place on the wooden walls that at the slightest movement of even a fly. A hole could be seen if one were to glance up, it gave an opening to the second floor were the Cinematic Record was emitting from. Instantly, the two kicked their heels and launched themselves at a seventy degree angle upwards, easily squeezing through the hole and chipping away a few of the corroding dry wall.

-...-

Undertaker gazed upon the starlit skies. The air was clear, it was a rare sight to behold, especially in London since the coal came from the large companies that had towering smokestacks going to high Heaven. He inhaled the fresh air from his perch a clock tower, smiling. "Beautiful night, lambs shouldn't be out working at this hour," he snickered to himself, taking a bite of a bone cookie. A few crumbs were licked away on his lips as he savored the sinful sugar. He finished his cookie and reached inside his urn, frowning. "William ought to make more of these, I'm running out."

He let a quiet chuckle loose from the base of his deep throat and looked again at the dark sky.

"Hehehehe...hmmmm~."

For his entertainment, he watched several Cinematic Records that were dancing to and fro above sink down to the streets, signifying reapers retrieving the temporary lost souls. Will-o'-wisp like hair flung side to side as he turned his head to observe the Cinematic Records fade away from his view. _They're getting better at this._ He smiled, admiring William's work of training his graveyard shifts of reapers. One by one, Cinematic Records were gone and there would be an occasional individual or pair racing about the roofs below, all heading the same direction.

Behind silver bangs that were overgrown to be considered normal by himself - not that Undertaker was normal, the daft freak knew this, his eyes scanned the perimeter of the district. Everything was going smoothly once again, just like the week before. It became a habit of his to spy on younger reapers from numerous perches at night. Shortly after Alan's incident with reaping did Undertaker decided to take charge of being a chaperon; he sometimes worried for the young lambs, being fresh from their deaths and set to work as Death itself. He remembered watching Eric Slingby, his assigned partner, struggle to keep Alan alive and he would not have survived his first attack if Undertaker had not walked by with a coffin in cart.

Not everything could survive everything, even immortals would have a weakness at some point.

Just as he was ready fade into the shadows behind the other face of the clack, a single Cinematic Record that he thought to have seen wade away had suddenly resurfaced. An apprehensive glance at it somehow confirmed his anxiety, slowly building into a full blown adrenaline rush. Coat, sleeves, and hair flying in all directions, Undertaker clutched his beloved top hat as he stepped strait over the edge and then began to free fall. The precious urn was stored away in his robes as he stretched out a hand to clutch a heavy, metal scythe. The grooves and contours of the sheath fit snug in his cold, pale hands as he embedded the blade into the side of the tower, using the friction to slow his fall even though it created a clean cut.

At the right height from the ground, he kicked himself off the tower's wall and landed gracefully onto the trembling shingles of the building where the Cinematic Record originated from. He glanced upwards at the damage he wrought to the decrepit building, a low whistle came from his chapped lips. "William won't give me cookies for this," he murmured, waving his hand at the tower.

The vertical incision of the clock tower looked as though it were a wound from a whiplash, though the building began to mend itself. _Still got it, just like an old thoroughbred._ He turned around to see the Cinematic Record rise higher than the tower once more. He walked towards the middle of the roof, standing at where the support beam would be, and then hauled his scythe to be at a higher level than his height, bringing it down in front of him while slightly grunting from the effort while a mad smile suddenly creased his ghostly face.

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><p>AN: I'm going to try and update as often as possible~!

**READ & REVIEW**


	5. Reaction

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji

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><p>A support beam came crashing down above their heads, but Grell would care less as he dragged an unconscious Ronald in his arms, just in time as well. The roar from his chainsaw quadrupled with the cracks of wood and scrapes of shingles coming against metal, giving him an earsplitting headache. His sharp teeth dug into the inside of his cheek, piercing it and causing it to bleed; he swore he felt a piece of flesh get chopped off but that was the least of his worries. Whatever chunk he felt in his mouth, he spat it out, sending a bloody spray to god knows where.<p>

Ronald Knox was never one to release his scythe, just like William. He clutched to it like a hunting hound would clench his maw and never liberate his prey.

"Damn it, let go, will you?" Grell gritted between his teeth, trying to haul him away or at least get him off his chest. It was a struggle, but he felt a series of strips loop around his wrists and fingers, though they never tightened as they traveled up to his arms. He widened his eyes, gaining a short visual of the Cinematic Records snaking up to his throat. "No! Kah!"

Like a python, the larger ones constricted around his neck, easily wrenching him away from Ronald. His arms and feet flailed about, but it only entangled him further into the Cinematic Records. He screamed, loud; his airway was cut diminutive and he let loose a high-pitched squeal instead. Again, they wrapped even tighter to prevent him from making any noise. He thrashed some more, back arching and feeling blood in his brain begin to pressurize. _This..this is insane!_

It was as though his eyes were about to pop from their sockets, or his brain would leak out from his ears, when he suddenly stopped breathing. Blackness began to envelop around his eyes, shrouding his view of anything until there was an ungodly clang between metal against metal. As quick as the darkness came, silver light obscured his vision and the Cinematic Records loosened around his already frail body.

He gasped for his precious air despite blood leaking endlessly; hands come to his throat and chest while his eyesight recovered, not that it was normal at all. Relieved from the tight burden, Grell swiftly rolled to his stomach and desperately crawled towards his scythe that was across the room. Like a helpless infant, he winced and whined as his bare hands came to contact with splinters and shards of glass that were among the debris of the ground. "Ah!" he hissed with blood dripping from his lips while catching a sharp lash on the back of his hand. He carried on, knowing that behind his head, the building was crashing and coming down upon him and Ronald, as though it were Judgment Day.

His breath hitched when he took a grip to the handle of his scythe, rolling to his side and then facing whatever was behind him.

A few feet away, Ronald was on the ground head down and scythe toppled to the side. The engine was still roaring, though he flipped the back switch and instantly the engine became nothing but a purr. If there was anything he could do less, he could stay quiet and hide behind an upturned table. He shut his eyes, stilling his breath as he felt a lone, Cinematic Record snake passed his feet and around the corner of the table. With adrenaline rush slowing and heart rate resting, he began to feel a throbbing pain in the inside of his mouth.

One eye slitting open, he tasted a thick, metallic liquid and allowed his mouth to release it. He watched in horror as he bled profusely, his tongue felt around the side of his mouth and felt a piece of flesh missing. Blood began to seep into his throat while the other poured to his chest, staining and expanding into the custom made dress shirt. His stomach churned as he fought the urge to vomit. _Oh, if only I could take my pills._ His other hand that was hold the ground supporting him went to his coat pocket and felt the small bump, indicating the medicine was still there.

He gave a sigh in relief but was still alert to the sounds of metal creating deafening sounds. _One._ Grell propped himself into a crouch, closing his mouth. _Two._ He got into a lunging position. _Three!_ He sprung from behind the table, his chainsaw thundering with life and raised high above his head. His eyes were wide open when he felt an abnormal pressure against his beloved scythe, he wanted to swing it but couldn't find the strength to do so. A curtain of silver hair and the trademark top hat was nothing more than an indication of who it was. At that moment, it was nothing more than pure silence as his scythe suddenly lost its power

_Undertaker?_ Grell thought, he couldn't open his mouth since blood would pour like a faucet. He done his best, forcing the liquid down his throat, but was willing to vomit at any given chance. The grip on his own scythe slackened considerably as he relaxed, falling to his feet from the midair strike and looked up at the older reaper. His back was to Grell, his legendary scythe poised in the air still as though it were proud of itself.

Once more, his heart once pounding in his ribcage had slowed to an even pace as he observed the tip of Undertaker's scythe gather the last of the Cinematic Records. "Now, I thought a reaper like you would be able to handle this," murmured Undertaker, but he turned as the last of the Cinematic Records was gone, leaving the room in a quiet state.

Around them, it was a muddle; drywall was scattered, lumber and support beams were on the verge of falling out of place with another move, and any furniture in the area was deteriorated beyond repair. Grell wanted to speak but kept his mouth shut. Undertaker sent his scythe away as he leaned down to examine Ronald on the ground, shoving away a plank of wood that covered the latter's chest. He placed a hand on the younger reaper's chest and pressed against it, this prompted Ronald to automatically open his mouth and a small strip fluttered out like a fish.

A black nail pinched the squabbling piece and examined a few seconds of the clip, frowning as Ronald spluttered. "Up you go, lamb."

Why didn't I think of that? Grell breathed heavily through his nostrils as Undertaker aided Ronald to sit up; the red reaper couched, slightly flinching at the pain his legs, and watched Ronald. _Ronnie_.

He felt a lot of blood swell up in his mouth, forcing him to open his sealed lips. A cascade of the crimson liquid poured to the floor, pooling around his feet. Ronald saw the sight of that, eyes widening as though he was watching a freak show unravel itself. "What the hell?" he huffed out, Undertaker slapping his back to kick the air out his lungs. "Grell! That's disgusting!" Grell rolled his eyes, nodding in agreement._ Painful too._

"Since I just saved you lambs, I suppose I am owed an explanation on what happened here." Undertaker's trademark grin was beaming down at Grell, who closed his mouth again. "Ah, you can't talk, here. Do not take any other medicine with this, alright?" A pair of long nails pinched a small vial in between, its contents swished about and Grell instantly took hold of it. He popped open the cork and brought the mouth of the vial to his lips. "It'll take a minute or so to take full effect, just keep your mouth open and let the blood flow out."

Groans from the entire house indicated a very soon collapse, both Grell and Ronald took hold of their scythes and they vanished. It was an indication to leave, and neither of the three had the desire to stay back.

-...-

A small ball of light was released from his scythe, Eric had a solemn gaze to it, watching it spiral and dance between his fingertips. He floated within a dark space that seemed endless without a point of gravity. Telling where up or down was nearly impossible but years of training allowed the blond reaper to harness a way to stabilize himself and walk as though he were on water. He released the soul, letting it go off and float with hundreds of others that floated along, swimming as though they were in a small pond, clustered together.

Eric aimlessly floated into the school of souls, they dispersed as though he were a shark, his saw-like scythe being his teeth. His only illumination were the souls floating to and fro, near and away. They were vengeful souls, wishing to overcrowd him and dominate him, let him feel pain, but they were at bay. His eyes pierced the souls, they fled from his overwhelming presence. He gave a satisfied nod and then closed his eyes, finding himself underwater in his bathtub. He resurfaced, calmly breathing, and whipped the water from his eyes.

The small clock on the edge of the bath read four in the morning, he was lucky to have the day off and the ability to sleep in as long as he pleased. Sighing, he unplugged the clog for the drain and stood up with ease, water dripping from his toned body. His glasses were at the sink but he was able to see well, being nearsighted by several feet.

He grabbed the nearest towel and the pair of glasses, drying his hair and chest before wrapping it around his bare waist. Day break was around the corner if he stayed up long for another hour.

"Damn, I overdid it," he cursed over the sound of the water draining in the lavatory. He slowly made his way to his room, stepping from tiles to carpet as quiet as he could, not wishing to awaken the room's other occupant. There was a shuffle within the sheets of his bed, then a light murmur.

He eyed the slumbering form, stopping at the foot of the bed. He bit his lip, grounding it slightly in frustration until there was a parched voice rising from the sheets,"How much longer are you going to take in the bath?...come to bed." Eric relaxed at the voice and the tension he created to towards himself, grabbing a pair of nearby shorts and slipping them on. "Eric?"

The sheets rose slightly but Eric got onto the bed and gently pushed him back into his place while going under the covers. "I'm here, I'm here."

-...-

Dark skies began to lighten up slightly as Grell, Undertaker, and Ronald raced through the rooftops, heels, boots, and Oxfords clip-clopping on the shingles. Grell took a quick glance at his pocket watch, finding it to be four thirty; being out on a simple mission for this long was beyond Grell's standards, especially Ronald's, but an emergency was an emergency. He felt around his cheek with his tongue, flesh filled the gaping hole in his wound and the bleeding had stopped. Regardless of Undertaker's strange aura and behavior, the redhead would rather choose medicine from him rather than withstanding the pain.

"Can you talk yet?" Undertaker asked, veering closer while kicking away at a chimney.

"Yeah, I...I can," Grell managed out of his newly healed mouth,"thanks, you're not a bad person really."

He grinned once more. Ronald kept his distance from the two; if they were to move in a cluster, one would loose balance at some point and end up crashing. "We were fallowing these loose Cinematic Records and found nothing. There wasn't a body or even signs of Death." His voice was calling over the winds, Undertaker fell back to be by Ronald's side. "They just started attacking us, like they wanted us dead. Honestly, no body at all, right Grell?"

Grell nodded but placed his focus ahead of himself. "Those weren't normal Cinematic Records, Ronald. Even though I can't see them right now, I definitely felt them; when a body is reaped, a scythe is used to have an access to the person's soul. From there, it separates memories from the soul itself. A soul can be collected, yes, but Cinematic Records could be left, then again, Will wants us to get those as well in case Judgment Day comes. That's why our scythes can absorb both, once the soul and memory are split, they can not merge again."

"Someone is knowledgeable here," Undertaker said, clutching to his hat,"did you notice something wrong?"

"Yeah, our scythes wouldn't absorb the Cinematic Records," answered Ronald while Grell added,"and the soul wasn't even there!"

The silver haired reaper nodded his head. "You're both right on those points, but those Cinematic Records were rigged."

Both looked at him, Ronald was surprised and asked,"Rigged? How can someone rig them? They're memories!" Grell spat a clot of blood from his mouth, gagging slightly and sticking his tongue out; sure, he loved blood, but having a chunk of your own flesh flap about in your mouth was not really appealing. He wished he hadn't bit down on his cheek. _Oh, spare me the pain he says. Well, it's still there!_ He whined sharply but continued on, staying at the head of the two. He failed to take heed of Undertaker's warning regarding the medicine, staying a few more feet away. Another impending headache was waiting in the horizon.

"Well, there are ways such as...such as wiping away the memories from the strip. Memories cause emotions and that is what hold's the entire reel together. Perhaps the more aggressive memories were left in place," wondered Undertaker,"it is very complex, yes, but it's a cause and effect. Motivation and action, yes?"

Grell gave a shaky look to him and looked ahead once more, eyes beginning to loose focus. _Fuck. Now?_ He popped open the dispenser and hastily took a pill, swallowing it dry and pocketing the dispenser once more. His pupils dilated slightly with the headache's warnings wading away and his vision clearing up. He felt more energized, giving the roofs a more thundering step. To his left was the River Thames and to his right were the two reapers that were falling back behind him. It took him a minute to realize why his feet were suddenly pounding against the roofs; they felt like lead, dead-weight, and anything but feather-light, he was beginning to slow down.

"Hey! What's up?" shouted Ronald, trying to keep up with the ungraceful redhead. Undertaker's eyebrow twitched in interest and tore pass Ronald, however, he was too late when Grell lost his footing at a corner and slipped off the side of the building with a yelp. His destination was river, he made no effort to catch himself as the burst of energy had faded away, replaced by it was fatigue. Instantly, Ronald and Undertaker came to a halt at the area where Grell had stumbled from. "Grell!"

Ronald began to strip himself of his coat but Undertaker held out an arm,"No, lamb, not after what happened when the Cinematic Record got into you. Hold this." And he was given the satin top hat and robe while watching Undertaker leap from his spot, diving perfectly into the water with a more subtle splash compared to Grell's.

-...-

At exactly five o'clock, the office was suddenly booming with life. Reapers shuttled over to various floors of the libraries, attempting to start the everlasting clockwork of their occupations for the day. Secretaries were answering calls and sending messages through assistants while receptionists dealt with the sign outs of legal Death Scythes; officers were waiting patiently for superiors to assign them souls to collect; vendors were opening stands for distributing coffee; and finally, among the entrance were the monotonous day had began, a top hat stood out amongst the crowd.

In order to avoid attention, Ronald lead Undertaker behind various shelves and pillars, going through hallways and quiet passageways while dripping wet from from river. "Where's his room?" Undertaker inquired once more for the umpteenth time, which was starting to agitate Ronald. While the blond reaper advised to go to the Infirmary, Undertaker preferred to have Grell in his own room for some twisted reason.

"I'll tell you when we get there, I don't want a flock of students coming in and surrounding you, that won't help Grell," he briefly explained, checking a corner before going into an elevator and letting Undertaker in. The said reaper Ronald had mention was asleep in Undertaker's arms. "And William will kill me if he finds Grell, honestly." He pulled a golden lever and the elevator began to go up the floors. He faced the two. "Honestly, are you asking him to die or something?"

"Just a simple reaction, he just needs to sleep. I forgot to say that the medicine is quite powerful." His lips were curved at both ends, he was smiling despite the situation. _What a daft son of a bitch._

Ronald eyed him suspiciously. "If he's dead, I swear, I'll kill you." He gained a giggle in response as the elevator stopped on the eighth floor and the doors opened. They stepped out and strode down the hallway in a quick pace with Ronald in the front. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and yawned when the stopped in front of Grell's door; he went to him and reached inside Grell's pocket, taking out a golden key and inserting it into the lock. With a few turns and a pound of a first against the door, the barrier opened and they entered, only to find a surprising guest.

"William?" Ronald tilted his head in confusion.

The superior gave them an expressionless stare, eyes locking to Ronald's while his hand held a poorly stitched, hand made doll of a certain demon. "Ronald Knox...Undertaker...Grell Sutcliff," he addressed them stoically,"what are you doing here?"

And then Undertaker roared with laughter. "What are _you_ doing here?"

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><p>AN: I want to say reapers are pretty much advanced creatures, I mean...honestly, their weapons and the newest OVA released? Did you not see the streetlights? Ha ha, I guess that and elevators are probably the most modern things I'll mention in this story. Please make sure you review, I love writing this story and I hope to be encouraged so. Either way, I'll still be faithful and review as often! Already one thousand views!...if only there were a thousand reviews! Ha ha, remember folks:

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	6. Saving Souls

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji

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><p>"Uwahahahahahaha! Found the poor bugger sleeping near the river!" Undertaker smiled to William after calming from his sudden laughing fit. "If you don't mind, we need to dry him up." He pushed passed Ronald and entered the lavatory. "William? Since you were in here before us, go find him something appropriate he could wear." His soaking robes dripped to the carpet while Grell's crimson hair was plastered to his thigh and arm, they both brushed against the door frames languidly.<p>

William was quiet for a minute, then he began search through Grell's wardrobe. His hands pulled out a rather revealing lingerie, he made a disgusted face and tossed it back in, searching the lower parts. _Why live such an extravagant lifestyle?_ Honestly, spending money on wants than needs wasn't a good virtue. He pulled out a pink nightgown, one that was more appropriate, and placed it on the bed. Ronald stood at the door, quiet. "Do not gawk at this, get in."

The blond nodded, gulping slightly, and entered, the door closed behind him. He took a seat on the mattress, which creaked under his light weight, while saying,"We found Cinematic Records. But the soul wasn't there at all. Undertaker says it was rigged by someone."

"So it caused that?" William made an indication with his eyes, flickering them quickly at the open doorway to the bathroom and turning them back to Ronald's. From there, Undertaker laid Grell on the floor and was currently stripping him; a creepy smile was slashed across his face as though he was handling one of his customers. He removed Grell's dress shirt, hanging it off the edge of the bathtub with his vest and red coat. The pants were about to come off as Ronald shook his head slowly, looking back at William calmly. "Then what?"

"I don't really know, he ran ahead of us and then slipped on a corner. Fell down to the river, Undertaker had to fish him out."

There was a scoff from his superior,"And you did not jump in to fetch him?"

"No, Undertaker...he decided to get him, I mean, I would have but he told me not to-"

The mention reaper pipped up from the bathroom, saying aloud,"William, I don't mind. After what happened, well, even you would have gone in his place. A Cinematic Rip was gnawing his soul out out like a parasite, apparently, he says that the soul was gone. Whoever done that must know well about this. There were no other reapers in the area, you can trust me on that. Only these two and myself. William, I told you to get me clothes." William took hold of the nightgown and tossed it over to him, he caught it after drying Grell's entire body. "Thank you."

"Ronald Knox, I advised Grell to have you accompany him and he was lucky to have you, knowing your tendencies. Either way, was there any abnormalities that happened?" As Wiliam paced the room, hand taking his scyhte that was popped against Grell's bookshelf, Undertaker emerged from the lavatory with Grell himself. He was laid down on the bed, his hair in a loose braid to dry faster, as the older reaper sat down next to Ronald.

Ronald immediately answered,"He wasn't really...graceful, y'know. Not like he could run perfectly fine, he had a hard time seeing the Cinematic Records-"

"Rips," corrected Undertaker.

"Whatever! Anyway, he just complained about not wanting to do the mission, normally he'd be begging to get it over with but he didn't wanna go in the building."

"Is that all?" William inquired, he knew there was more to the story. It wasn't everyday that Grell Sutcliff returns home soaked with water and passed out, and it definitely wasn't everyday that Grell sounded hesitant. Ronald nodded. "You may leave now, do not discuss this with anyone, understood?"

"Yes sir." He got up and walked out of the room, opening the door, and was just about to step out of the crimson chamber of Grell until he paused. His head turned slightly, he hesitated over his shoulder to speak. "...I just remembered, he told me to run if I hear a whisper. It was pretty much the weirdest thing he said to me. He looked like he was going to piss himself-"

"Language, Knox. And thank you for telling me." Ronald murmured an apology and left them, closing the door quietly as though he didn't wish to awaken the sleeping Grell. The mortician gave a loose cough and a flick of his head, sending drops of water flying across the room from his long hair as though he were a wet dog. William frowned, eyes slightly closing, when he approached the clothes that Grell wore, which were drying out on the edge of the tub. "Undertaker, did you realize something about Grell?" His gloved hands searched the pockets of Grell's trousers, finding nothing. He began to check the vest's pockets.

Undertaker's head tilted to the side in confusion, thoughtful, and said,"Not much...perhaps the fact that his glasses were not on his head, yes? They are really important, right?"

William cursed to himself, nothing in this either save for an Albert, a pocket watch, and a glasses case. "It's actually a necessity. We reapers, when we die from our human forms, are given eyes that are similar to the gods. Then again, we are gods ourselves so I suppose that the transformation between human to god puts a strain to at least one thing in our bodies. At least one. All is for eyes, always the eyes." He ruffled through Grell's coat. "You should know that by now."

He gave a morbid snicker,"Such an assumption you have of one with experience. I suppose you've learned what life truly is, correct? Being a mentor for you, well, I expect you to be as knowledgeable on that topic as I. Everything will always come with a price."

"A price, a price. There's always a price. Lately, overtime's been the pay I have to give now," he sighed smoothly, reaching into a pocket and taking out a pill dispenser,"and this is?" He checked for a label put found nothing, he popped the cap open and sniffed it. It was the familiar stench of bile and decaying flesh, making him want to gag. Undertaker rose to his feet as William came over, covering his nose, and nearly tripped over a plush carpet. "Undertaker, I don't remember medicines like these being distributed. You're a mortician, medicine's in your practice now, right?"

The older reaper took the dispenser and brought the lid to his nose, sniffing it like a dog and taking a single pill from it with the tip of his nails. "Here's a familiar scent." His tongue licked it and he smacked his lips, looking the other way in a thoughtful manner. "Ah...and the taste too...Grell jumped into the river, yes? The scent of the pill in his breath was probably washed away so I can't tell you if he took this or not...along with the potion I gave him. You know? The one that heals flesh...now, what's the term again? Oh, down the hatch then."

He simply placed the pill on to his tongue and swallowed it, much to William's horror. "Undertaker! Why did you take it? You don't know the effects of it! For all I know, I really doubt that it was prescribed by our Infirmary since it did not carry a label! Undertak-"

"Shut up, you babbling lamb. I swear, you sometimes annoy me with fallowing protocol," snorted Undertaker, he folded his arms and gave a slightly glare to William,"you and everyone else. People like Grell should be more around these days. This Society wouldn't have been brought up without the good recklessness in reapers."

"I prefer to not have to deal with a thousand crimson peacocks running around."

Undertaker nearly laughed at that, but the laugh he let out was the mocking kind. The kind meant to subtly smack someone across the face without touching him. "Then you would hate to have me back then."

"Hnph, the last time you were here, it was the last time anyone ever saw Atlantis."

"Oh, seriously, I'm not that old!" He grinned madly. "Now, since I'm not dead yet, I can only guess that these are some sort of pain relievers. Grell might have taken them when the potion hadn't taken full effect on him...if he done so, it will only result in him having worse effects such as death. I'm surprised he's still alive-" There was gurgling from the slumbering reaper, as though he were choking on his own tongue. "Hm?"

Grell began to toss and turn, slowly, his small squirms turned into violent thrashes. His legs kicked about, hands grasped whatever they could take only to have it cast away, and back arched every once in a while. His mouth was open lopsidedly and his eyes slit open, having a spark of weakness and disgust, as he thrust himself onto his side, vomiting blood onto his already scarlet carpet and to William's polished dress shows.

"Grell!" William yelped in alarm and shock, jumping away. The blood would be a pain to clean out now but that was the least of his problems. He was ready to go to Grell's side but Undertaker slapped him away as he murmured a threat that made William back away quickly. Immediately, Undertaker went to Grell's front and hurled a clenched fist into his stomach. Grell gave a groan in pain and retched even more blood until he finally coughed up whatever was lodged within his throat. As soon as it was out of Grell's system, his stomach began to hold itself and he suddenly ceased his sickness.

William rushed to be at Grell's bedside while Undertaker ducked away to examine the pool of blood. As Grell wiped away tears that had produced in his eyes from the pain he felt that was too unbearable, a small pill was plucked out from the blood and was shown to Grell once his attention span had returned to normal. Quietly, the mortician inquired the obvious,"Did you take this pill?" Grell eyed him wearily with only a blink as a response.

"Y-yes," he stammered.

"...now we can get him to the Infirmary."

"_Now_? !" snapped William, he was beginning to loose his cool. So the daft reaper decided to bring Grell to his room instead of the Infirmary where he needed immediate attention? _What a madman!_ Sure, Undertaker was a well known reaper in his time but to have him act so neglectful was a shock to William. Yes, William himself was cruel to some workers, but he was never heartless to them. "Why didn't you bring him before? ! It's not even listed in regulations but it's common sense! I sometimes wonder why I respect you!" He stepped over the blood and scooped Grell into his arms, carrying him with ease, and charged out of the room. Undertaker frowned, the bloody pill was pocketed and he fallowed suit, only walking and going the opposite direction.

_Honestly, reapers these days are nothing like the ones before. Grell had always been the odd one out, why can't they pay closer attention to him?_ After closing the door, a smile crept through his lips as he fondled with one of many pendants that hung to his chain. _It could save their lives._

-...-

Alan awoken himself at around six, it was in his biological clock to rouse from sleep and begin his day. A heavy but warm and protective arm was around his waist, holding him close to the one who had that arm. He let out a giggle when Eric snored quietly and snuggled himself closer into his chest. He stayed like that for a few minutes before getting up, careful to not disrupt his friend's slumber. There was the familiar ticking noise of a clock that hung on the wall, it gave Alan a comforting feeling since it was in sync with his own heartbeat.

He got to his feet, a shirt of Eric's was the only article of clothing he had on his back but he didn't mind. In fact, he didn't even mind that Eric was holding his waist when he first gained consciousness. His back popped slightly and the electrifying sparks flew up his spine, stinging slightly._ Frail as ever._ He shook his head at himself. Eric had always been the one there for him. While he knew that being a reaper would be an occupation to last for all eternity, he knew that it came with the burden of wandering both the Human Realm and Reaper Realm individually without a single companion. It was as though he was meant to be a single drone from a colony of bees that had no individuality whatsoever.

He made his way towards the lavatory to search for his attire. Green eyes met green eyes at the mirror, he examined himself before washing his face.

Loneliness. That was what he had to face as he grew up as a reaper. Undertaker, being his mentor at one point of his never ending life, had played role of father but was rarely home. He was like this as a child, even through his adolescent and teenage years, he was isolated from his own kind. After all, they were too busy with their own work to pay mind to him. Every so often, he would wander through the library as a teenager, looking at records but was instructed to never set a finger to them.

"To ever open such records, Alan, would lead to your death," Undertaker warned him once, his usual demeanor gone and replaced with an authoritative voice. When he asked why, the older reaper shrugged. "I dunno...why not join the Academy? You'll learn more there."

And so Alan did. He joined the Academy, passing with an average of an AAA and gaining the highest mark the Realm had ever seen; perhaps the deprivation of information of the Human Realm and socialization from the others had caused him to soak up lessons like a sponge ans pass through with flying colors. Undertaker was pleased when Alan was able to done the black suit and glasses, along with a standard scythe similar to that of William's. He encouraged Alan to go on his first mission but, of course, advised him to go with a partner when gathering information. His partner was, as one would guess, Eric Slingby, a reaper who had been in the Society longer than him at the time. When he first entered the Human World, he was guided by Eric, who was much more relaxed with it, and was marveled by it.

His hands reached for a towel and he dried his face, he glanced around and saw a bundle of clothes sitting on the cabinets. He began to dress himself properly. Fresh clothes could wait until he went back to his own room to change. Slowly, he left Eric's room, hoping to not awaken him.

He was brought from a world of white to a world of colors. And soon, during his free time after work, he would wander the streets of London, with the occasional accompaniment of Eric, to be more familiarized with their current culture, fashion, politics, religion, and etc. However, when Undertaker took notice of this, he gave a fair warning of mingling with humans and to not grow attached to them. Unfortunately, Alan, normally being a law-abiding reaper, failed to take heed of his warning and began to develop a fondness for the other race.

It was more evident when he was given his first Dispatch mission when he was promoted. The said mission involved a young lady who committed suicide off the London Bridge and landed in the water face first, smashing her head against an unseen floating beam of metal. As her body floated aimlessly, Alan extended his first scythe towards her chest and ripped it open, revealing the Cinematic Records. He did as the rules asked and reviewed them to judge what her life was. He learned that if she were to live, should would be an unimportant soul to the world and judged her to death.

While souls were separated from their memories, taken in the form of Cinematic Records, they had the ability to feel the emotions that were triggered by such memories. Knowing that the young maiden's soul would be tortured throughout eternity, he sought to spare her at least one simple pain by being sympathetic. There were no rules to cutting Cinematic Records, so he done so, taking strips of several events that he found painful for her and relieving her of such burdens. He tossed the strips to the river with the belief that it would never resurface. Unfortunately for him, it resurfaced and that was the start of the Thorns of Death.

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><p>AN: Sorry for sounding a bit all over the place in this fan fic but that's what I'm aiming for. After all, everything will be explained in due time. Besides, fragments are always the basis for building surprises, right? Also, I want to point out, Eric and Alan are, as in the musical, just really, really, really close friends that seem to act more like lovers. Their relationship will develop later on in this story along with William and Grell's, both of which I can't wait to write out later. Oh, and by the way...really, a thousand hits and yet no one's really reviewing that much? ! C'mon, guys! I wanna see how I'm doing! And thanks to those who reviewed me so far, highly appreciate it. Until next time...

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	7. Scarlet

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji

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><p>A carriage carrying several crates arrived two hours after Alan had gotten ready for the day; horses stomped their hooves and flung their heads. Green eyes were wide and wild, they were growing antsy by simply standing there, some moved slightly in their place but were whipped out of misdemeanor and were quieted so suddenly. Alan flinched slightly at the crack of a whip that Ivan, a well known delivery boy for the Dispatchers. His scythe was, to go with his handling of animals, a bullwhip attached with a sharp blade at the tip. He was rough around the edges but even rougher on the inside. Gaining respect from him was hard, even for William, though he softened up for Alan. It was probably because of the Thorns of Death that made Alan gain more privileges than most. He hated the special treatment.<p>

"...and the last of the shipment have arrived from France, Spain, Germany, and...I believe Romania," Ivan informed him,"you just need to return them to me when your done, alright?" Alan nodded. "Not that hard to do. See? Well, I'll catch you later Alan." The American reaper clambered up into the carriage and snapped the reins, clucking his tongue. "Walk up!"

With a whine and snort, the horses hauled the carriage away from the loading dock. Several other reapers came by and assisted Alan in carrying the crates inside, he took his own crate and fallowed them to the Sorting Department. There, Samantha had switched positions for the month and was at the desk where she confiscated Cinematic Records. While her task was to search them for any complications (torn spines, loose strips, fading ink), she would only sort them to their destined bookkeeping by date. Her dainty hands rifled through the pages and tossed the books to waiting reapers that walked away with their affects.

Alan's turn in line came and he placed the crate on to her desk. "Here, imported from four countries."

Samantha sipped from a mug for her coffee while gaining a breather. She was one of the international reapers in the London Division of the Dispatchers that spoke most of the languages in Europe, therefore, her position of being a Sorting Receptionist to being a translator for meetings varied every so often. It wasn't surprising for one to find the brunette reaper being at the Registration Department one day and then find her at the Communications Department the next. Settling her mug down, she looked up at him from her seat with a bored, exhausted expression. "What are they?"

"Spain, Germany, France, and Romania."

"The Divisions there? Why are you asking for them? You can't even read a word in those languages!"

He smiled at her brightly. "That's why I need you."

"Well, I'm bust right now, Alan...why not get Stucliff? The freak knows French...and Spears, I think he speaks a bit of German. Alan, exactly what are you doing with these Cinematic Records? Make it quick."

"It's classified information." That was a half lie. It wasn't really classified if everyone knew and ignored, but the people that were involved, well, that part was classified from the other reapers. The lady wanted to laugh at him, her eyes changed from bored to amused. "Hm? Stop laughing, this is serious!"

"Serious? Ha!" She leaned on her desk, chin resting on a gloved hand. "Alan, those countries' Departments are being under watch by us, you know. The Paris Division is growing smaller thanks to those angels judging souls; the Berlin Division is going up in flames because of disorder; the Madrid Division is falling to pieces since there are reapers actually committing suicide for god knows what; and the Bucharest Division has already gone to hell with their vampire problem! Those countries have the worst Divisions I've ever heard of!"

"...well, I'm getting a feeling that we'll be falling apart soon ourselves, we just aren't noticing the difference," Alan retorted. Samantha gave him a doubting look. "Don't make that face at me, I assure you. Had you seen Lacey? He claims to be left handed, he has been for as long as I've known him! And he suddenly became right handed a few days ago!"

There were a few impatient reapers behind him, waiting. "Can you hurry up? ! We don't have all eternity to wait here!" cried a man.

But Alan ignored him. "And then there's Evan. He never had a single spelling error in his reports and was always grammatically correct! He was a functioning worker until last month, he got demoted and now he's a lazy glutton-"

"Alan! I get it!" Samantha nearly shouted, beginning to become irritated, he stopped his developing rant. "So what if they changed! We're stuck here for eternity! You'll see us change to try to get a different taste in life, my god, can't you learn something from humans? We were ones too! Fine." Her hands were up in the air in defeat. "I'll help you translate these Cinematic Records later, alright? There's no need to drag yourself with those books down here. I'll meet you in your office when my shift is done. If you don't mind, you just created a mile of reapers that I now have to sort individually."

He turned around to see numerous reapers scowling at him, he said aloud,"I'm sorry, it's just important!" Among them was Lacey, who carried a clipboard and a Cinematic Record tucked under arm. "You're right handed now, I know it."

"What are you talking about? I've always been left handed!" Alan gathered his books and stormed passed him, ignoring the jeers from the others and shooting him a sharp, scorning glare. The partying reaper shook his head with a sigh and wrote down a note onto his clipboard with his right hand.

-...-

Grell found himself situated in the Infirmary. He was in a half drowsed state, barely remembering what happened the night or day before. It was like that time again in that gray room when he felt disoriented. Was that part the dream or reality? He blinked slowly. His mind was too scrambled to think rationally. _Shit, damn Undertaker...or was it Will? Ronald? Someone._ He knew he was under the effects of a drug when he spotted an ivy bag attacked to a hook on a pole near his head. His eyes blinked once more and he saw William sitting by, a clipboard in hand along with a pen in another, scribbling down on the paper madly.

"...Will?..." His voice was dry and he could barely breathe, like something was choking him. "Will?"

The superior looked up from his work to observe Grell. Instantly, he took a sheet of paper and clipped it over the report he was working on. Grell stared at him, not being fully awake but willing do listen to whatever he said. "Write." Grell sat up slowly, he was given a fountain pen. "Report your mission to me."

"Huh?" he asked in a dumb manner, looking at the pen as though it were a foreign object. Again, William repeated,"Report your mission to me and then I'll let you have the entire day off." Grell eyed him weakly then stared down at the page in front of him. It was blank.

"There's no...lines...not even a-"

"Just write. Write whatever you can." The red reaper's hand began to unconsciously write across the page, dragging the tip of the pen across in a fancy penmanship. "Whatever you can remember."

_Even dreams?_ He continued to write, but his hand seemed to move accordingly to his thoughts. William watched him for a few minutes as he struggled to write and got up. "You keep writing, fresh ink and paper are on the nightstand if you need it. I need to go check on something." Grell gave him a quick, sleepy nod and continued to write as William closed the double doors. Once in the hallway, he strode down quickly and arrived at his office. He found Undertaker sitting on his desk, happily eating a boned cookie. "Of course you would come here."

"I appreciate you making these cookies," he chuckled at him,"my feelings about you earlier are now gone. You're starting to learn my likes, aren't you? Heh heh." He chomped at the bone and chewed on it. "Well? Any development?"

"He just woke up," Willam answered, adjusting his glasses,"about the Cinematic Rip, you said that one nearly chewed Knox's soul inside out. Is there any chance that you have it?"

Undertaker held one pointed finger up, a bone tucked between the folded ones, and grinned at him. "Now, a first rate laugh for me and I'll tell you about it." William gave him a bored look. "...or perhaps no? Heh...you're a tough man to get to, you know? Stop being so stiff." He put his urn and cookie on to the desk and reached towards one of the many pendants on his chain. One pendant, in particular, was a locket and it opened instantly. A pair of nails extracted a wriggling strip of a Cinematic Rip, he gave a disdained laugh at it as it tried to escape his nails. "I, myself, hadn't gotten a good look at the Rip myself but there are many more that could tell what happened."

A blank piece of parchment laid on the desk, Undertaker took it and pressed the swirling Rip onto it until it suddenly snaked into it. The parchment glowed white slightly and a click resounded from the sheet as a short clip began to play in front of them. William neared closer to gain a better perspective, only, there was an earsplitting scream resounding from it. Immediately, the two covered their ears and shut their eyes out of the pain; Undertaker thrust his hand on to it and yanked the Rip out from the sheet.

It squirmed in his pinch but was returned to his locket and stowed away instantly. "Not what I'd expect from a Rip. William, had you ever seen a Rip before?"

"I've heard of the term but never had a chance to practice with them."

"I'll tell you," he smiled to him,"it's a Cinematic Record that has basically been edited. It's like you extract the parts you find worse in a life and just leave it lying on the floor. Now, those parts could be various things in life but the issue is, they only contain the emotions of a person. Emotions and memories are entwined with one another, without memories...the Cinematic Record can never exist for a soul and without the emotions it causes, there would be no way for the memories to be contained in. So Cinematic Rips are when memories are wiped away but the emotions are left...leaving only a skeleton of a Cinematic Record and causing the emotions to take physical form and wander about.

"That scream we heard, it was probably an emotion causing a reaction. Cinematic Rips also contain the person's thoughts as well. When this was lodged in the young lamb's throat, I suppose he was lucky to have been touched by a scream rather than a malicious emotion. Lord knows what damage that would do to his soul." He ended with a bite to his bone. "There's more, but that's the basics of it."

William nodded in understanding. "What if we insert that into a reaper?"

"It would only work if the memories match the emotions of the Rip." His bangs shuffled, indicating he was lifting an eyebrow in interest. "I suspect Grell will be a test subject to this."

"He seems to be the only reliable one to use, he's not wearing his important glasses."

Undertaker's shoulders dropped, his lips twitched and then formed a snarl. He growled,"I thought I told you to stop with the rules. Simply because he fails to wear his glasses does not mean you can subject him to such cruelty. You can easily damage his soul if you inject him with the wrong Rip! His memories will attempt to merge with separate emotions and he'll be damaged faster than you can say the rules of this damned place!"

"Am I the cruel one?" William asked coldly. "You never had the sense to bring Grell to the Infirmary until he began to spew his innards all over myself. Your cruelty is just as worse-"

"Souls can be harder to fix than bodies, you fool! You were possibly one of the worse students I could have ever mentored!" He got down from his seat on the desk and grabbed his urn, tucking it within his robes. They were dried a an hour before and had now become stiff as though they were coated with starch. He began to leave the room. "Grell is lucky for me to have the Rip and not you, until you find me proof that the Rips belong to him you will never see the Rips all!" He slammed the door to William's office hard enough to cause several shelves in the bookcases to tremble. William sighed and calmly walked over to the door, opening it to see Undertaker had gone off and was gone.

He slowly made his way to the Infirmary, rubbing his temple in frustration. He opened one of the double doors to see Grell asleep on his pillow. He was reclined back and was snoring slightly. William saw several papers scattered on the floor and picked them up.

A tiny smirk creased his normally firm lips. _So he did remember a couple things._

-...-

"Do you need anything else, Ronald?" Samantha asked him, it was nearing the end of the day and night shifters were beginning to make their appearances with overtime workers. He shook his head. "Alright, you brought this soul back in good condition and-" Her fingers suddenly ran through his hair, he hissed in pain. "You got a bump on your head, you might want to get that checked out."

He smirked,"Nah, I'm fine!" He took his book and turned away. He stumbled slightly and staggered, immediately, Samantha stood up from her seat and went to his side to support him. "No, really, I am."

"Ronald, how long have you had that bump on your head? I need to take you to the Infirmary...you're lucky that you were the last one in line and that I take notice of these things!" she chided him, ushering him to the Infirmary a few halls down from where she was stationed. Despite his protests, she continued to gently push him to her desired destination and opened the door. Inside, William sat on a chair next to a familiar looking redhead. They shuffled by him, though Samantha stole a glance to see Grell sleeping soundly in his bed. She put Ronald at a bed next to Grell's and scuttled off. "I'll go get a nurse, you, sit here! My god..."

When she was gone, William looked up from the assortment of paper he was reviewing countless times. Ronald was looking back at him with a vex expression, as if he were a child not wanting to taste a bit of medicine; the facial appearance made him look a bit boyish. The blond set his book on to the table and sighed,"Well, Mr. Spears, did Undertaker finally decide to get Grell here?...Did you find out what happened?"

"Not really, but allow me to start with the first question. Only fourteen hours later, you decide to come here now instead of then despite the injury on your head, I can clearly see it from where I sit. You're just as reckless as the old man, not taking personal care of yourself and all. I chose you for my team because you were independent. Now the only issue I see in you is you asking whether someone else is alright while not taking proper time you care for your own self." It was a flat out insult, but William only elaborated it to make it the kind to be read in between the lines. "Honestly, do not be like Undertaker. Sure, you can strive to do what his actions were but not him in personality. God knows how I can manage another Sutcliff."

"Maybe you wouldn't be handling him if you took the time to actually care for him. And besides, having concern for others rather than yourself is selflessness! It's a human emotion and you are-"

Before the conversation could escalate into a full blown argument, a nurse squeezed herself between them, prompting William to edge away in his chair to give her room. "Stop moving and let me check your head," she instructed, a hand going to Ronald's cheek to cup it. Samantha came by, waving at him, he looked at her, only to have his head sharply turned upwards to face the nurse. "I said stay still." He grumbled in response and reluctantly complied. William's attention was averted back to the papers. One was laid out on the nightstand and he stole a peek at it to read a few words:

_'And I found myself in my office after the dream...or was it a vision?'_ He was cut off from reading when the nurse looked over her shoulder.

"And Mr. Spears," the nurse said, she took out a pill dispenser from her apron as she turned around to face him completely,"the doctor ran some tests on this. It is actually a drug that we, in this Division, don't prescribe to anyone. This is too powerful of a pain reliever and can be addicting, it's the equivalent of morphine for humans. Where did he get such a thing? I thought the Council banned it from use." There were many drugs that were developed and banned over the course of time because of its adverse effects on the performance and lifestyles of reapers.

"What is this one called? I'm not familiar with medications."

"Scarlet. It's powerful enough to actually heal our problematic eyesight. However, in return, it disables our ability to see Cinematic Records. For that, that's why it was banned at least three hundred years ago. The main use of it was to actually heal fast while temporarily blocking out any memory of the event that the injury had occurred, of course, that doesn't really help in fights against demons, now does it?"

-...-

The ticking of a clock relaxed him as he waited for Samantha to enter through his door after a knock. And so, a few moments later, she did so. "Come in," he said, and she did as well. The four books were on his desk, waiting to be translated by her. She took a seat in front of him and opened the French book. "These are Cinematic Records of reapers," Alan explained as she scanned through it,"all four them are dead though."

"Considering they're from ruined Divisions, I'm not actually caring whether they are dead or not. They could all rot in Hell for all I care for." She placed it down and looked at another one. "Why are you investigating these ones anyway?"

"There's been an increase in Cinematic Rips in various parts of London. Why they appear here and not there is what I'm concerned about. I was hunting for souls until I encountered each of these and listened to them on paper, I heard the languages and recognized them to be German, French, Spanish, and Romanian. I sent for back up to help contain these Rips and looked over them further, from there I found the names of the reapers who owned the Rips. Of course, I had to wait two full months for the reaper's Cinematic Records to arrive and now here they are."

Samantha's fingers traced the German Cinematic Record and pulled a strip to watch it for her amusement. "Had you read Ronald's report? He states that there was a Cinematic Rip in London just earlier this morning. It attacked him, how did you get to handle those Rips on your own?"

Alan shrugged and leaned back in his swivel chair, leg folding over another. He was watching her intently, trying to see the slightest change in her already exasperated face. "It was the Thorns of Death, I guess...Rips couldn't exactly take affect on someone whose soul is already claimed by an illness. I've watched the ending for each Cinematic Record of those reapers, and they all share a similar ending to their lives. A woman humming and them being whisked away somewhere, it's the same for all four of them." His hands were folded on his stomach in a polite manner, he was smiling at her like he was the receptionist and she was the reaper he was attending to. "And she looks rather familiar. Pray tell, I know you're an international reaper but what were you doing at each death?"

Instantly, she looked up at him in surprise, no, shock. Perhaps utter horror would fit. He let loose a quiet chuckle as she got up. "How can you suspect that woman was me? There are countless reapers that look alike!" she defended herself, he got up as well, his warm expression changing to a menacing one in which he had malicious intent upon her. "And stop staring at me that way!"

"Samantha Starveling, I'll give you ten minutes to leave this Realm." He walked around his desk and went closer to her. Samantha backed away slightly from him. "Ten minutes."

She reached for the doorknob, but she did the unexpected; there was an audible click! and his heart pounded its loudest. With a frightening smirk, one that made his expression soften and recede, she approached him. "That's enough time."

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><p>AN: No! Alan! Run away!

**READ AND REVIEW~!**


	8. Fox Hunt

Disclaimer: I don't own Kuroshitsuji

A/N: Sorry for the long time to update! School projects and things got in my way, Finals are up in two weeks and tryouts for color guard are in the air too! Here's a nice long one! Enjoy!

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><p>Alan's eyes went wide but he instantly calmed his features, placing a cool gaze to her fiery eyes, and took slow, easy breaths. "Enough time for what?" He asked politely, a warming smile attempted to give mock assurance."I give you ten minutes to let you leave from where we stand, yet you lock the door. Am I supposed to gain a parlor trick from this? Samantha, please take your seat." Her arrogant smirk faded away when she realized that she no longer intimidated him, she brought her arms up behind her head and stretched while walking back to her seat.<p>

He went off to the side, going to a table and then turning around with a tray that carried a tea set. Carefully, he placed it on the desk and took a hold of the kettle of water.

"Drink some," he offered to her, pouting hot water into her cup. Life in the office consisted of the tea one would find in a small bag that held mixed herbs, not of the tea nobles would drink for luxury out of special herbs boiled to perfection. He had a small packet and opened it for her. She obliged, with hesitation, and dipped the bag into her cup, a string held it so that when the water mixed with the said ingredients she would be able to remove it and drink. He poured another cup for himself and sat in his own chair across from her. She dipped the bag lazily, her eyes coldly staring at his, which were focused on the tea. "Seeing how you want a cup of tea...you seem to want to cooperate. I'll give you thirty minutes to explain your purpose."

There was an awkward silence, her fingers released the string and let the bag sit in the piping hot water. She folded them on the desk as he reached for the tray to take a cube of sugar to drop into his tea. He stirred it with a small teaspoon and, once deeming it ready, brought the cup to his lips and drank. The way he done so got her suspicious, she could not help but drum her fingernails on the wooden desk. It was so casual, so easy. She sensed the fear radiating moments ago but now it was gone. Now it was her turn to build up that emotion.

His eyebrows lifted up when his eyes wanders over to look at her as if saying,_'Well, are you going to talk or what?'_

She thought that she would rather say it when he placed the cup down on the saucer.

"My name's Samantha Starveling, I am not a reaper, nor am I demon if you want to kill me," she said the last bit with spite to emphasize her point that was ready to come. He nodded for her to continue. "I come from the States but my work for my Master had brought me here about ten years ago. Ever since the Civil War twenty years ago, reapers have been highly scarce in our land." She stared down at her tea. "...he requires them for our work."

"So your Master, is he a demon?"

She shook her head and took the small handle. She drank from it with tiny sips.

"Then what is he?"

"He's human." She shrugged. "I'm human as well."

He nodded and leaned against his desk with his chin resting on the palm of his hand. His index finger tapped his cheek rhythmically as he spoke with a tiny smile,"How are humans like you messing with gods like us? It's impressive you're able to conceal your soul, even during training at the Academy and everything else. It's more impressive that you tore down the other Divisions single handed."

Samantha shook her head once more. "No, the Divisions are alive if you imply them as dead, they just imploded on the inside and, well...let's just say that they're somewhere else. Can I go now?" She said the last so fast that when her fingers that drummed on the table, they began to flick over her nails quite rapidly. "Please?"

"Why?" Alan asked in a fake, surprised tone. His eyes looked over at the clock when he heard her clatter her cup down to her saucer. "It's only been five minutes since we sat. Tell me more. Where are the reapers that are alive then?"

"Some are kept with my Master, others have been sold in the Everto in either whole or pieces. Ever since the Civil War, the Everto had always been a decade behind humans and at least a century behind reapers...we live the old ways, you know? Society and all, it's just that...it's just that..." Samantha trailed off, wandering about in words, as she struggled to speak properly. He took notice of the sudden change but kept his guard up.

_She's probably playing Grell. _Back when Grell was disguised as Jack the Ripper, he was well known for playing innocent (even around coworkers) until he allowed his true colors to burst forth and kill a certain Baroness. The term_ 'playing Grell'_ came from the fact that he was coy to everyone at the time. Alan's foot tapped against the scythe laying on the floor. With a flick of his ankle, he would have sent the handle flying towards his hand and stab Samantha here and there to reveal her Cinematic Records. No, he would wait until he gained a true confession from her. Simply ripping her soul from her memories would be boring and less entertaining. Also, the fact that her death would never let her Master come out from wherever he was in order to capture him made Alan rethink about reaping her soul.

If she were to be a frightened child, prodding into her would be easy. Even if she were to lie, it wouldn't work. He gave her a Truth Serum for his interrogation. Alan spoke in a soft tone,"That what? There's so much to say, I hear you gossip larger than Sutcliff. Why are you so shy all of a sudden? Or are you just-"

She fumbled through her blazer's pockets and took out a pill dispenser. He eyed it curiously and stretched out a hand towards it. "Give me that." Reluctantly, she obeyed. "What is this?" He read the label carefully. "Sable? What is it?"

"It suppresses my anxiety and energy! Master gave it to me so I could f-function properly here!" She answered quickly, her breathes hitched with a short gasp as she began to fidget slightly in her chair. "Without it, reapers would have had my head by n-now! Giv...gi...give it to me! Y-you'll sense it! They'll sense it!" He sighed and gave the medication back to her. If he wanted to have information, he would have to comply to her requests if this were to continue. She popped it open and removed her glasses, settling them down at the table, so that she would count the little pills for her dosage. But her hands trembled and she dropped everything on the table. "N...not now."

He watched her hands dance about, trying to gain a hold of her pills. "Samantha?" Her fingers took two and brought them to her mouth, she swallowed it dry and exhaled slowly. "What makes you afraid?"

"..." Her quiet demeanor returned. Oh, he knew she was fighting the affects of the Serum. "...me? Afraid?...the fact that I'm doing this to gods, I'm afraid of that. I want to laugh at your kind, spit at your shoes, kick you until you lay on the ground if I ever get the chance."

"This? What's_ this_ to gods? What makes you want to mock us as much as you could?"

Her lips twitched and she giggled,"You creatures believe you're collecting souls for the good of everyone. You're no different than demons, you just can't eat souls...I find it funny to find those like William T. Spears walking about with a meaningless purpose. It's where you end up when you die is what's hilarious. Master thought it's be good to work with reapers...just working them is what..." She tried to still her tongue but utterly failed, though her hand went under the desk. "...is what he does. He runs things on reapers."

Alan removed his chin, which had developed a red mark, from his hand and was in alert. "Work?" He wasn't alert at her words, but his full attention was on the knife that she suddenly brought up from out of nowhere. Before he could react, she stuck out her tongue and brought the blade to her tongue. With an agonizing cry, she cleanly sliced the pudgy muscle out of her mouth without a second's hesitation. "Damn it!"

He watched as she bled upon his table, the crimson liquid poured like spilled water and spread across the mahogany surface. The pills were pushed aside, falling to the floor, when she pushed herself away from the desk. Her newly severed muscle splattered on to the desk but she took a hold of it. Alan's stomach lurched at the sight of blood; once her hand was in reach, he snatched her wrist and shouted at her while holding down the sickness,"Who was involved in this_ 'work'_ in this Division? ! Write it down, even in blood!" He thrust a loose sheet to a dry part of the desk and handed her a pen as he rose from his seat, knocking his chair back.

Instantly, she handled the fountain pen and wrote down who was involved. It was a frenzy as he shouted at her, her medication mingling with the Serum had obscured her rationality and she gave in to the truth since she was writing in blood, just a simple yell would scatter her brain. She wrote slowly, the pain had gotten to her and was affecting her motor skills heavily. "Ahhhh...ahhhh..." She moaned aloud at her self-induced harm as she finished writing. "Huum...huuuhm!"

Her mouth was open stupidly, her jaw swaying while her font and the cuff of Alan's sleeves were stained. She made a clear run for the door and fled, not looking back as Alan sighed. He took a hold of the paper and his scythe before giving chase.

-...-

Undertaker stormed through the building, leaping gracefully from the second floor of the Grand Entrance of the library and landing roughly on the first. Several reapers that he had drawn attention from tried to approach him but immediately withdrew when he flashed an unnatural, almost menacing, smile. A low growl emitted from his throat and they returned to their work, all cringing at the sight of him. His silver hair billowed under his signature top hat, making him have a more ghostly appearance with his deathly pale skin. The scars upon his face contorted with his furious expression; he looked like a rabid animal.

_Damn this place. Damn it all to Hell, you freaks._ He stormed by a stack of papers and caused them to cascade to the ground, he laughed manically as he saw the reaper managing them scurry to his hands and knees to gather the work.

"Does he have a screw loose?" whispered a woman, she avoided his path to ask a friend, who answered,"He always had...Council claims that's why they retired him. He did the rest on his own."

He glared at the two gossipers and mouths went shut. Talking behind others backs was another thing he couldn't bring himself to tolerate.

When was it the last time he worked in the building as the Officer he was? Fifty years? A century? Something like that. Few were alive to tell what truly happened but for whatever damned reason, many sought to him as an all-mighty mentor and king to. Sure he was a living legend and yet here he is, hating the very people who hold him to the highest regards. He snorted, toppling a cup of coffee, and jostled his way between a group of reapers. They cowered away to give him room.

His boots clacked on the white marble flooring as he excited the Main Hall. Fast strides brought him down the steps and he walked on until a stray worker bumped into him. Slowly, he raised a hand to strike out and done so to the poor worker, sending her to the ground. He glared down and stopped to see Samantha on the floor scrambling to stand up. Within a second, she done so, leaving a pool of blood in her wake. He was ready to turn and leave, uncaring for the blood, until he saw Alan. The sight of him instantly calmed his rage as Alan slowed to a jog.

"Undertaker!" he called, he stopped by him.

It wasn't just Alan who was working on the random string of the appearances of Cinematic Rips, he was simply a pawn used by Undertaker to gain access to various Divisions around Europe. He knew Alan was able to speak many tongues, it wasn't like the mortician forgotten the young one's outings to London, along with various other parts of Europe. With a mind like his, learning a language was a snap for him. There was also another reason why he chose Alan to investigate; he was such a diligent worker for William, none would look at him and ever suspect what his real intentions were.

"It's her!" Alan exclaimed, eyes wide, as Undertaker looked about from him to the blood and to the direction of where Samantha went. "She's the cause of the Rips!"

"Well..." A grin formed on his lips. For once, for the day, things were going in his favor. Apart from having William annoy the shit out of his nerves with common sense and logic, finding a breakthrough in his private investigation was more than enough to brighten his day. "...we should go after her, yes?" Alan nodded, a look of determination upon his face to impress the elder reaper with the promise of capture. "It's been a while since we had a good fox hunt." He chuckled as they took off, sprinting out of the Library and off into the Office District where a trail of blood aided them in their tracking.

-...-

Samantha rounded a corner, barely missing a carriage running her down that was driven by a mad reaper. She panted and relaxed, slamming her back against the wall and leaning into it. She coughed up blood while she fumbled through her blazer once more for her Sable. But then it dawned on her. _Shit, I dropped it at the fuck's office._ Again, she made ready to run. _Master's a madman to have me do this. He knows that the London Division is the most stable out of all...it'll be useless to go one at a time...yeah, it'll be useless if I did that...maybe...maybe if I. No, starting a war between reapers and _them_ won't work out. Shit...kill me now, God._

Her legs shuddered, knees buckled slightly, as she pushed herself to a sprint, but her arm was grabbed and she launched herself forward by accident. She was wretched back, stumbling to the ground, but then was pushed to her feet. She was jerked off to the side and dragged. She wanted to scream but that would have grabbed her pursuers' attentions. Instead, she looked up to see a certain blond reaper with cornrows. _Eric? !_

"That bastard won't let me keep going if you die, so shut the fuck up and leave," he growled, pulling out a piece of cloth and stuffing it into her mouth to stop the bleeding temporarily. He pushed her to encourage her on. "Move!" She nodded, waving to him in thanks, and began to run once more.

-...-

A pale hand laid on the downy pillow that was one of many that were around Grell as he was propped up once more against the headboard, acting as cushions, he shifted around on the pillows with a whine. His eyelids fluttered open as he glanced about, finding Ronald resting in a bed next to him and William reading over papers. This time, William didn't bother to address him or acknowledge his consciousness, he simply sat there and shuffled through the writings. He murmured to himself, it was way for the supervisor to make mental notes, as Grell coughed for attention.

"Ahem-"

"I know you're awake, Sutcliff," he said, not looking at him,"...is this all that you have to remember?"

Grell rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he was given papers that were scribbled with his handwriting. He took a hold of them and reviewed them briefly after sitting up properly. "This didn't happen last night."

"Apparently it did not. But you failed to mention in detail what really happened to you and Ronald Knox, in fact, him and Undertaker were never there. And I never asked for dreams, I asked for the facts." He crumpled up a piece of parchment and disposed of it in a wastebasket nearby. "The Scarlet drug is said to erase your memory temporarily so after a good rest, the drug would wear off so that you can give a proper report." He swiped away the papers in Grell's hands and gave him his clipboard. Attached to it were a series of forms regarding reflection, analysis, and status of the soul. "Please fill that out...and I want a detailed reflection when you turn it in."

He reached over to the pills and presented them to him. "Does this look familiar to you? It makes me wonder how you, out of all people, had gotten your hands upon this. You do realize it is illegal, correct?" Grell shook his head.

"How am I supposed to know? It never had a label on it! All I know was that it takes the pain away!" Grell whined out. He hated having the regulations and laws thrown at his face, especially after having woken up. "I thought they were just pain killers!"

"They are, they are just banned from use. Honestly, mixing it up with Undertaker's apothecary makes it even worse. Now that you were caught with this, I have to fill out more paperwork and have more overtime for this. Possession of a drug like this can result in another demotion." He found the use of demotions as threats were highly effective against his workers, but he was ready to go farther by droning on and on of other punishments. But before he would open his mouth once more, Grell pointed at the door while dangerously glaring at him.

Two words came from Grell's mouth,"Get out."

William's eyebrow twitched at the sudden defiance. "...excuse...me?"

"Get out!" He demanded more sharply with a snarl. "Get out! I'm...I'm sick of hearing your bullshit. Don't do this or that, what the hell Will? ! I just woke up and you decide to bombard me with shit!" Profanity wasn't Grell's usual feature but he would let it out when needed. "You just can't treat me nicely, can you? Just get out if you can't!"

He was taken aback by the outburst and got up while picking up his extra papers that sat on the bedside table; he adjusted his glasses to perfection and stormed out of the Infirmary, leaving a tearing Grell. _The man has no feelings, does he? What a heartless man!_ He allowed tears to fall as he leaned back into the pillows. The back of his hand wiped his eyes dry as he sniffled. He couldn't help it. Over the years or so, all he heard from William was nothing but stoic comments and meaningless lectures that bored him out from his mind. He would never forget the constant abuse he would receive when he displeased William the most, even by the little things. When he attempted to make it up, however, he would gain a slap on the wrist or face.

Was anything he ever done right? No, not exactly, but they were only accentuated when William pointed them out. What frustrated Grell the most was that William seemed immune to any free emotion and, unfortunately, was the the only one Grell had to cling to in his endless life. He would have picked anyone else to be with but the two were like puppies raised to adults together. They couldn't separate, it had it's ethics at times but was all that they had of one another. But this would bring attention towards Madam Red. A slight thought of his relationship with her was sort of all about the fact that it had color. On the other hand, William was nothing but one shade of black and nothing else., both emotionally and physically.

As he quietly sobbed to himself, he thought of Sebastian. That demon was no different that William, only the relationship was a single shade of black as well, only more malevolent and vicious and came with a harsh beating.

Among his sniffles, his train of thought of the black butler was brought to a sudden halt when he heard Ronald on the other bed shuffle around to face him and point out,"You know, he's not that heartless...he stayed all day in the Infirmary to look after you."

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><p><strong><em><span>READ AND REVIEW!<span>_**


	9. Requests

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji

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><p>Undertaker sped down the street with Alan hot on his trail. He passed over the gutter, eyes glancing at the ground to see the blood trail thickening itself. This only convinced him that he was getting closer to her, but part of him wondered why he wanted to pursue her so suddenly. Alan would have gotten the wrong person for all he knew and there was no other witnesses to whatever she done to start a chase. Then again, seeing her with blood splattered down her front was enough to convince him otherwise.<p>

"She was never a reaper to begin with, was she?" he asked over his shoulder to Alan as they rounded a corner with a bit of a kick to their steps to increase speed. Alan shook his head as he went closer to him.

"Not at all...she was taking supplements to hide her soul-" Just then, the mortician held out an arm, prompting Alan to slam strait into it. He caught him before he fell, allowing Alan to regain his balance, as he observed the scene that made him stop. There was a sudden thinning of blood and then a complete disappearance. "Undertaker?"

He suddenly brought a boot-clad foot to a nearby trashcan and violently kicked it away in frustration, or at least that was what Alan thought. As the trashcan rattled away, nothing but in cartridges came pouring out, ever so staining the white pavement. Undertaker snarled and kicked again, sending the trashcan flying a good mile or so.

Alan stared at him, eyes wide at the thundering noises that his former mentor made while throttling about. It took another minute until he gathered the courage to speak up,"What are you doing? !"

"She's a rat, and to get her out is to shake her den, right?" A snarl was plastered across his face as he grabbed another trashcan to throw against the wall, a deafening clang made Alan wince in his place. Undertaker suddenly stopped his movements, as though realizing something. He whirled about, looking over at Alan. "Go find William and tell him to arrange a hearing for me and the Council." Alan stood there before nodding and running back towards the Library. Undertaker was left alone in the street, he let out a soft whine and began to, calmly, place things back in order.

It irked him that she gotten away. His eyes scanned the area once more, there was a lone trashcan in the corner towards an alley. _One more won't hurt._ He quickly throw a foot at it, sending it rolling about until a limp body came tumbling out. It was Samantha, she glared up at Undertaker and scrambled to her feet, her hands clawing on the white pavement as she threw herself out of the way from Undertakers scythe, which he had summoned seconds before. He swung it at her, missing and cleaving the trashcan in half horizontally. Her mouth was agape as she panted with fresh blood spluttering across the nearest wall to pull herself up. She barely missed Undertaker's swing again.

"Geh...geh...ahay!" She cried out, arms fling about wildly. "Geh ahay! H...Haher! Haher! **HAHER!**"

She slammed head against the wall in a sorry attempt to cause a coma to herself in order to avoid another interrogation. Undertaker smiled in amusement and howled out behind her,"I see what you do, you're being a loyal bitch to your Master by trying to shut yourself up! It's a shame that all the wasted effort will be for nothing once we see your Cinematic Records." She paused, eyes wide. "Ah, not too smart to think about that now, were you?" A hand came after her and she screamed her loudest as she was force-fed with one of Undertaker's vials.

-...-

"You're wrong,he only stayed by my side so that when I wake up, he can shove this shit into my face!"

Ronald sighed, convincing Grell that William's sincerity was existent was near to impossible._ Maybe he would have fit as a woman after all, he's as stubborn as one._ He sat up and checked his head with his fingers that gingery touched the scalp. Discovering the bump had receded away made him relieved as he swung his legs over to stand up. He searched for his blazer and tie, which were on a chair nearby, as Grell continued to rant. In truth, before dozing away, he saw William sitting loyally by Grell's side without getting up. At one point he swore he saw William hold the unconscious redhead's hand while taking a short break from his papers.

"Whatever you say, Grell," he murmured, shrugging away Grell's pointless facts. He let one arm through one sleeve and another through the other of his blazer but he left his tie undone and loose around his neck. When Grell noticed Ronald was preparing to leave, he sat up.

"And where are you going?" He said so like a mother would to her child before he gets himself into trouble. Ronald looked at him and cast him a reassuring look while making a sniffling noise with his nose and briefly looking at his watch.

"My place. I really need to get cleaned up, it's already two in the afternoon. I'll be back in a bit to visit you, do you want anything from your room?" Ever since Grell was demoted, he was forced to sleep in the Library with the lower ranking reapers. Grell relaxed slightly and said,"I want the doll I made. The one that looks like a butler with a very loose leg." Ronald wanted to laugh at that request. "He helps me sleep better!"

He winked at him. "Alright, I'll get you your creepy doll, anything else?"

"And my romance novel, it's on my nightstand." And with that, Ronald gave him a thumbs-up to show understanding and left. Grell waved to him weakly and then sat there on his bed, twiddling his thumbs. The paperwork laid on his lap with a clipboard holding them together with a clip. He reached for it and pulled it closer. Out of habit, he wanted to adjust his glasses when he noticed his vision was weakening but remembered that he didn't wear them. He looked at the nightstand and found his drug sitting next to a glass of water.

The addiction was unknown to him but he felt something clawing at his stomach. He lifted the covers while holding the clipboard to find a pair of scalpels gorging their blades into the fair, porcelain skin of his abdomen. His heart began to race, he wanted to scream but a hand was at his throat, choking him. With a clatter, the clipboard fell to the ground as the floating scalpels dug deeper with blood oozing out from the incisions, pain ripped through his nerves as a result as he swore to have lost control of his. He attempted to summon his scythe but discovered it failed to come; he kicked about until the instruments began to fade away into nothingness and the grip upon his throat slackened, releasing him.

To his utter horror, he watched his blood stain the white sheets. Whimpering in pain at the assault done to him, he cautiously reached over towards the pill dispenser and popped the cap open. He took three pills and placed them on his tongue, he took the glass of water and drank as much as he could to stomach the pills. Sighing and gritting his teeth, he laid back and closed his eyes after placing the cup and dispenser on to the table. _So I have to take these painkillers or else these things appear?...easy enough, I guess._ He laid there for a good half hour until he cracked open an eye to look down at his body, he found that the wounds were gone, along with the bloodstains as though the occurrence never happened. In fact, he failed to specifically know what happened and he was glad to know that he didn't know.

He looked over his side to see the clipboard on the ground. He retrieved it and looked over the said paper William assigned him to. Within minutes, he filled them out with a fountain pen, which he found on the bedside table, until he reached the reflection portion. His heart skipped a beat as he began to write what he could remember.

_'1 August 1887, single soul collection, no assistants...'_ But then he paused, who did he collect last night?

-...-

William had began his journey towards his office until he noticed a sudden trail of blood leading from Alan's office. His eyes squinted slightly as he noticed the door ajar with a bloody hand print smeared across the wooden surface. Was his attack that bad? He peered in, barely stepping on the blood near the threshold to see two teacups sitting on his desk._ I see, he was with someone._ A pile of books were scattered on the ground, endless writing covered them, indicating they were Cinematic Records. He stepped inside. This was the second time he had to invade a worker's privacy but he couldn't help growing a sinking feeling that something went completely wrong.

Blue, tiny pills doted the dark desk as he neared it, the pill dispenser was on the ground. Slowly, he knelt on one knee, using his scythe as support, and delicately picked up the dispenser to find it unlabeled.

"Another Scarlet?" He placed it on the desk and stood strait up to see several parchments laying about, some soaked from absorbing the crimson liquid. He checked the mes once more and sighed at the fight of Alan's upturned chair and a pair of abandoned glasses sitting on the desk. He was ready to go until Alan was standing at the door, hair windswept and chest heaving as he breathed deeply. "Humphries? Excuse me for my intrusion, but what happened here?"

"...I...I was interrogating Samantha Starveling but it went completely wrong, I'll explain but-"

William took notice of Alan's bloodstained cuff since his hand rested against the door frame for support. "Don't tell me you killed her," he frowned, glaring at him, as he took a step towards him. Alan looked at his hand and then shook his head rapidly. "Well?"

Alan stepped out of the way while allowing William to leave the room. He said,"She cut off her tongue before I could get anymore information out of her. Apparently, she's from the States and has a Master she answers to." Then he began to fallow him. "I gave her Truth Serum, the use was unauthorized but it was the only way, but she might have found out and just...done this to herself." He suddenly shook his head. "Oh, but Mr. Spears, that's not why I came to you...well, it was going to be next on my agenda...anyway. Undertaker requests for a hearing with the Council."

"The Council? He's lost it, there is no way I would give him a hearing. He mistreats my workers and then asks if he could have a little chat?" He entered his own office that was down the corridor and allowed Alan to enter with him. "If he had brought Sutcliff to the Infirmary, I would think otherwise about him."

"Wait, Sutcliff is in the Infirmary? !" He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a bloodied parchment that spelled out his name. He handed it to William, who reviewed it, as he went to his side to explain his findings. "He was involved with Starveling since she wrote his name. She also said her Master is the cause of the Romanian, French, Spanish, and German Divisions collapsing." William sat on his chair, scooting it inside his desk, and studied the scribbled name. He was quiet as though making a decision of what to do, which was true. "Did she explain specifically what she does to reapers?"

The sudden change in Grell's features, especially his eyes, would give William a clear understanding of what happened last night. A failure of a proper report proved to be a worthless approach in his upcoming endeavor, along with questioning the noncomplying Undertaker. Slicing open Grell's chest with a scythe would be useless as well since it would only cause him pain and possible death. He was disappointed to hear Alan say,"No," and chose to agree to Undertaker's request. Samantha seemed to be the most promising to learn from. Swiftly, William reached over his desk to handle a fountain pen after taking out a waiver regarding an immediate assembly of the Council and a hearing. He filled it before Alan's eyes in a manner of seconds, then signed his signature at the bottom.

"Undertaker will need to sign it as well, then he should bring it to the Court...is Starveling still in the premises?"

"No, she fled, I couldn't find her but I think Undertaker is still going after."

William got up, taking a folder with him, and headed towards the door. "Whatever you were sent here besides asking for a hearing, you are done. I suggest cleaning up the mess in your office and anywhere else in this building that Starveling had defiled before workers begin to grow suspicious." Alan nodded and walked away with William going the opposite direction towards the Infirmary. On his way, he passed Ronald without saying a word.

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	10. Rag Doll

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji!

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><p>Ronald breezed by, shoulders touching and then he was a good several feet away, he turned his head to the side to look over his shoulder; William did not look back, he was never the type to do so. <em>He's too, what was the word?...cool.<em> There we go, William was too cool to even consciously think of ever turning his head over shoulder. He gave a curt, approving nod at his choice of word while reaching the corridor where elevators were. He pushed the button and stood there, patiently waiting. With a slight glance to his left at a window, an he spotted what appeared to be two black swirls dashing about the rooftops outside below the Library. "What the hell?" he murmured, double checking to see if he was hallucinating.

He saw a flash of silver speed after the black dot. That was a death scythe! He grew worried, wondering how long the fight had been going on. Sure there were a couple disagreements here and there, and a scythe held up once or twice, but this felt different. A gloved hand reached into the inner pocket of his blazer and retrieved a pair of binoculars, he peered through them and zoomed in by pushing the small tab on the side. He nearly dropped them when he identified Samantha dodging every swing of Undertaker's sickle.

"Samantha? !" He said aloud, catching several reapers' attentions when they walked by him in a group, as a familiar _ding!_ from an elevator resounded through the corridor. He threw a glance the golden gates opening but thrust his elbow on the glass window; the force undid the latch above him and the window swing open. The gently, afternoon breeze came pouring in and sent papers scattering out of the workers' hands. His foot stomped on the windowsill and he looked down, from where he was, it was quite a drop of several hundred feet but it was nothing compared to what his lawnmower was able to handle.

Without a second thought, he kicked off and launched himself towards the ground below while adjusting his glasses until they nearly touched his forehead. He went into a crouching position, readying his legs to spring up, as he swung his arms back. From there, he pounded against the roof of a building underneath the floor he had came from as his scythe materialized behind him. Feeling the familiar wait, Ronald kicked off once more while shifting his weight to perform a front flip, nearly releasing his scythe but keep a loose and firm grip upon it. Once completing his rotation, his white Oxfords padded against the motor as he prepared for a longer, much more power landing. A swift hand pulled the chord and the machine roared to life.

-...-

A page and a half done of his reflection had given Grell's hand an ungodly cramp. He felt every bone pop as the door opened. Green eyes wandered over to the door, his lips curled into a satisfied smile._ The boy is faster than I thought._ He stretched his arms ahead of him to block the view of the incomer and yawned,"You're very quick, a thirty second shower? That's not very hygienic." When his hands went down, he glowered at the sight of William. "Oh, you...I don't think whipping at a woman ill in bed is a good choice."

William gave an unapproved, and unamused, expression while taking his seat near Grell's bed. Without further comment, he said,"Do you know Starveling?"

Grell doubted him in his random inquiry but answered slowly,"She's the receptionist at General Affairs, who doesn't know her? She's nice and all..."

"And do you know of several Divisions in the Reaper Realm falling to pieces?" William took the page that was fresh from Grell's lap and reviewed over it. So far, he wasn't liking the result of the paper; his eyes fallowed the dark lines on the bedside table's leg until they reached a place where an empty cup and an overturned pill dispenser laid, strewn with pills slightly pouring out. Oh, Grell was going to receive a beating whether he was ill or not. _For God's sake, he's taking the Scarlet, of course he won't be ill!_ The pruning tool that rested on his lap extended up towards the unsuspecting redhead.

"Of course, it's on the newspapers every day I mea-..." Grell's eyes went wide at the sight of the sharp point in his face. "...get that thing away from me! I wrote down what happened in the reflection! What more-"

"It is not that which I am concerned about."

He fixed his glasses, which nearly slid off his nose, as he brought it to one of Grell's signature bangs.

"You took the Scarlet, did you not?...Grell Sutcliff?"

Grell's fearful demeanor became dark, causing William to instantly withdraw his scythe when he saw the other's jaws open to reveal the shark-like incisors. "I need to take it, William...I don't care if it's banned by you, the Council, or anyone in this world! I'm in pain, maybe if I...if I bit right into your stomach and yanked your intestines out? You'll be in pain, you'll want to use something that works quick! This worked better than Undertaker's medicine!" Lips curled as a warning gesture towards William, showing even the gum of his mouth. "Do you want to try-"

"Look at yourself, Sutcliff, you are beginning to be addicted to this and you can't even remember who's soul you were supposed to collect last night! This paper is only a reflection of one of your dreams!" Voices began to rise, Grell was taken back.

"That's the truth, that's all I remember, and that's all you're going to get out of me, Mister William T. Spears!" He addressed his superior with such formality that it shocked him. William's brows furrowed as he sighed, eyes closed to count mentally in his head how much patience he had left for Grell's stupidity, and his hand gripped the scythe so he shortened it until it was short enough to sit in his lap once more. He reached towards the Scarlet, much to Grell's displeasure, and pocketed it in his blazer's pocket. "And if you tell me to write another damn report, I swear I'll quit! I'm not even wearing my glasses, I might as well live like Undertaker, save for being a funeral director! At least he's not having it rough like me, in fact, he seems to enjoy what he does!"

The last statement was the final straw for William. _He doesn't know the truth yet, does he...the idiot._ For the first time in his career, he stood up from where he sat, his scythe clanging against the metal poster of a nearby bed as it fell, and he swooped down to heave Grell close by the collar of his dress shirt, and even higher, almost to a point of where the latter's bottom left contact from the mattress. The papers that were strewn in a somewhat organized patter on Grell's lap came suddenly laid strewn on the floor. He was never the kind to discipline by hand, relying on his scythe was more convenient, but William quickly discovered how much of an effect this had on Grell, for it shut him up in his childish assumption. Grell's arms hung lamely at his side as though he was one of his rag dolls while William leered at him, as though threatening to toss him out the window.

Grell wanted to throw his fist into William's chest and he done so but was frightened to learn that it had no affect. Instead, while withdrawing his first, William grabbed it and also threatened to shatter it with a simple twist. Grell gasped at the thought when he felt William clench the custom made dress shirt even tighter. A muscle moved under William's hair, indicating that he was grinding his teeth, as Grell began to squirm in his grip. William brought the side of Grell's face towards his mouth until his lips caressed the other's ear; his hot breath contacting the flushed skin and sending a tingling feeling down Grell's spine. Instantly, he froze as he heard William whisper softly.

"Listen, I am concerned about you, alright? Stop taking the Scarlet because clearly you are going to forget what happened your entire lifetime...not just what happened the past forty-eight hours."

Thinking that it was his only punishment, Grell sighed in relief since it was yet another pointless reasoning to stop taking the pain relievers. It was too late when William released Grell's wrist and pinched the back of his neck to knock him out. Grell's head hung loosely upon his neck and he truly became a rag doll when William hoisted him into his arms to carry him bridal style; his arm hung loosely to the side and by William's shoulder while the nurse came walking by. He kicked away the chair and made his way towards the doors.

"Mr. Spears! You need to sign him out, if he even is alright I doubt he recovered from the Scarlet!" She pipped up, scampering over to him with a clipboard. "Mr. Spears!"

Eyes rolling slightly, his glasses was ready to slip off his nose once more. He carefully laid Grell on to the nearest bed and calmly took the paperwork to go over.

"I know you very much dislike paperwork, but it needs to be done," she sighed as she heard the final scratch of the pen on paper, she took it to look over as he adjusted his glasses, then she nodded,"you may take him. Just be careful...but I need to know, where are you going? Mr. Spears?" She approached him by an inch as he picked up Grell once more and began to walk out of the Infirmary. "Mr. Spears?"

"The Council, they require Grell Sutcliff's presence there," he answered without looking back,"and if Ronald Knox arrives here, tell him that he must meet at the Council as well."

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><p>AN: Sorry about this being shorter than usual, guys! But I have work to do and I might as well give you something to preoccupy yourselves!

**_READ & REVIEW!_**


	11. Rag Doll II

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji

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><p>Eric observed the rooftop fight from the street, as did several other reapers. Some clustered to together, others approached or at least attempted to fallow the nonstop movements of the two that danced about above. No one was stupid enough to get between Undertaker during a fight, they knew that a single cleave from his sickle would be the end of them. But whispers and disappointed groans from the crowd came about every time Undertaker trusted his death scythe forward and miss.<p>

"The little bitch," he growled, jaws clenching. He let her have a chance to escape but now that she was caught, what would happen to the deal? It would only be a manner of seconds until she would loose her footing or slow down to allow Undertaker the upper hand in this dogfight. All that she had done was be the offense, so it would really count as an assault. Eric had to think quick but his thoughts were cut off when he heard a familiar engine roaring through the turned his head to the right and spotted a lawnmower soaring like a bird across two buildings. "Knox...shit..."

He looked around, reapers were already gathering when Undertaker cornered Samantha at the edge of the highest building (which was about twenty stories high), his death scythe was extended ahead of him, one of the skulls was pointed strait at her. Eric gritted his teeth; Samantha looked ready to collapse any second while Undertaker was grinning madly without a sweat. At least, that is if anyone could see the sweat. _Fuck it._ Eric shook his head._ If this was her problem, she would have been more careful._ He began to strode away casually, his coolness shielding him from anyone asking questions; not that they would grow suspicious due to events in the sky.

When his head turned, there was a deafening clang of metal against rotating blades. In front of him, he saw sparks tinkle down like raindrops but he brushed it away and continued on for the Library.

-...-

Sparks flew from the two death scythes as Ronald boosted the speed of the blade's rotation, Undertaker grinned even wider and chuckled over the grinding,"That's an interesting modification you have there."

"Thanks, the lady you're attacking right now is the one who helped me through the process!" Ronald yelled as he kicked at the engine; the force sent Undertaker's death scythe to the side and allowed Ronald to land in between the two gracefully. He flipped the switch on the handle and his death scythe quieted to a mild purr. Samantha, eyes bulging like a goldfish, stood at the very edge of the roof, threatening to fall when given a reason. Ronald threw a wink to her and reverted his attention to Undertaker, who brought his sickle upright to lean against.

"...she did that? Hmmmm, very difficult...but I will tell you this...um, what was it? Ah, Ronald." He pointed a black nail at the trembling Samantha. "Help me arrest her, she's a traitor-"

"I don't care what she is, why the hell does she have to be listed as one? She didn't even do a damn thing," Ronald spat, stepping in front of Samantha to protect her. He glared dangerously at Undertaker she she crawled forward to cling to Ronald's leg obsessively, hiding behind one of them. "You don't even have proof."

Undertaker suddenly broke into a laugh,"Proof? You never saw the Rip in your throat! I pumped that out of your very mouth and yet you ask for proof? Maybe it damaged your mind a bit, that's not surprising, even if it went after your heart. Now..get out your cuffs while she's still attached to you, Alan still needs to question her further. She's tied up with the collapse of the other Divisions, yes? It wouldn't kill to look into her Cinematic Records if she can't talk. Hey, little wolf." He peered along Ronald's side. "I gave you something to heal that tongue problem. Do I get a thank you?"

"He's lying, Ronald!" Samantha cried, Ronald looked down at her to see blood splattered across her front, some even leaked from her mouth and there was a slur in her speech. "Don't listen t...to him! He's...he's mad!"

"Mad as The Hatter," he uttered to her, hand venturing to reassuringly stroke her hair. She leaned towards his touch until Undertaker broke it by approaching them and hurling the blade of his death scythe at Ronald's own weapon. The blond responded quicker and hoisted his lawnmower high enough to avoid contact, then he slammed it down and allowed the curve of the sickle to become entwined with the pole attached to the scythe. "If it's a fight you want, then I'll go for it."

Undertaker frowned, the handle of his sickle cradled between both arms and hugged to his chest as he lunged forward; a single lurching movement back could sever Ronald if he failed to move. "Go against my order to you and you'll be considered a traitor as well." The mortician's grip slackened on the handle but was ready to tighten when necessary. An idea popped under Undertaker's hat and he decided to put it to use. "What is it that makes her so important to you?"

Ronald froze in place. His eyes trained on Undertaker as he came closer, hand before hand in an odd manner like that of a spider. The wispy silver locks danced, signifying that he realized he gained the upper hand against him; he smiled, teeth beginning to show. As he came closer, Ronald stepped away from the lawnmower and Undertaker lifted his death scythe out away from Samantha. If Ronald had the sense to look back, he would have noticed that the blade had sliced into the bridge of Samantha's nose, slivering a millimeter of flesh.

Importance? Ronald pondered over this absentmindedly but by the looks of it, he was fixated on that thought, completely ignoring Samantha's desperate pleas of, 'Just kill me now!' as Undertaker picked her up by her mousy brown hair and began to drag her away. She trashed about in pain, screaming her heart out, while Ronald watched quietly. The group of spectators below observed the handling of Samantha and decided to not bother with it.

He watched her claw at the end of Undertaker's coat. Instantaneously, he whirled around and brought his right leg up in a perfect 180 degree angle while sending away his sickle. She tried to cover herself by curling into a ball on her side; this made the result even worse when the madman hammered the heel of his boot into the side of one of her knees. With one knee stacked upon the other leg's calf, the knee on top popped and crackled under pressure. Even flesh was torn as he dug his heel even more to easily snap the delicate calf bone.

Satisfied with his work, Undertaker giggled and pranced away, dragging his prey with him towards the Library. Ronald could only watch in terror as Samantha groaned and withered in pain, sobbing into the afternoon sunset, as she was slammed into various buildings, leaving a bloody splotches in Undertaker's wake. It was an overwhelming question, and much to his own nightmare he failed to choose an answer, only remaining silent. Part of him wanted to save Samantha for sentimental reasons, another part wanted to do as she said and spare her the suffering, another part wanted to fight against Undertaker for what Ronald saw as the truth of Samantha, and a final part just wanted him to die of guilt.

-...-

_Sloosh. Sloosh...Pop!...Sloosh...Pop!_

Sleeves rolled up to his elbows, Alan used the exposed part of his arm to wipe his forehead from the sweat that had developed. Sure, reapers could have the ultimate stamina but work strained on to his lithe, weak body had rendered it to be as fragile as a human's at times. He glanced over his work, mop in a bucket, and sighed contentedly. Now William won't bitch at me anymore. He grabbed the bucket without difficulty and began his journey for the storage room where cleaning supplies were kept. Should a reaper make a mess, they were required to clean. It was common sense and reapers were prideful creatures at times, not wanting others to do work for them. Even the most laziest ones never let others do laundry.

When it came to paperwork and overtime, however, it was an entirely different story. Alan opened the door and placed the bucket down while leaving the mop inside with the water. _Someone else can take care of that._ Unlike most reapers, Alan was more lenient against the whole pride thing most reapers have. He closed the door and adjusted the cuffs of his dress shirt so that it was at his wrists. Slowly, he walked on, heading for his now clean office, slightly proud of his own little cleaning in the Library. Luckily, few were browsing the Cinematic Records so being discreet was easily done.

He headed for an elevator but heard the small ding and looked at the nearest one to see the golden gates open as he set his foot down. Convenient. When it opened, he patiently waited for the reaper to step out but to his shock, Undertaker strode out casually, drawing a heavily bruised and battered Samantha by the hair, to make his way to the Infirmary. From what he could tell, her limbs were shattered since they drudged against the flooring languidly like a doll. Undertaker was humming an eerie tune, but the chill of the song waded away when Alan realized Samantha was staining the previously mopped floor.

An eyebrow twitched in utter agitation, then Alan exploded,"Why the hell is she _dead_? !" He nearly slipped on the blood. "And I just cleaned this up!"

The only answer he received was a door flying open and shouts exchanging from person to person.

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><p>AN: Whether people reply or not, I will see this fic to the very end! But..I do appreciate it if there's more variety in readers reviewing! C'mon, guys...there's so many reading and yet very few are actually reviewing! Thanks to those who do!Finals are going on for the next two weeks but I'll try to update as soon as possible~!

**READ AND REVIEW~!**


	12. Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshituji

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><p>Undertaker met William's cold gaze that scanned him quizzically until the other broke out in a terrifying bellow,"HOW MUCH MORE TWISTED CAN YOU GET? !" William nearly dropped Grell but held to him as the door closed on cue, slamming shut, but the raven haired reaper kicked it open once more due to his hands being full at the moment. He advanced quickly at the silver mortician, his grip tightening on Grell's arm and leg, as he sneered up at him, almost testing him. Undertaker only smiled down at him. "Attacking...murdering...slaughtering a death god? One of your own kind? ! You've completely lost it-"<p>

Undertaker erupted into a maniacal laugh that made William withdraw significantly,"Lost it? ! Ha! Lamb, this woman..." He lifted Samantha by her hair so that he presented her to William as though she were a fresh game caught. "...was a wolf in sheep's clothing."

"But...the proof, where was the proof to kill her-"

"She's not dead, see? She's alive, just knocked out. Now, if you don't mind, I need to fix her up." Undertaker jostled by, shoving William to the side, and then dragged Samantha on the floor once more. William grimaced, the sudden urge to vomit overcame him when he noticed one of her feet pointed in the wrong, unnatural direction. Undertaker hummed once more and continued on as if the argument never occurred. He let him pass, not stopping him from his demented goal, but turned around and raced after him until he veered around to face him head on. "Hm?"

William let Undertaker get away with the mistreatment of one of his workers, he was definitely not going to let him escape some sort of justice. The lazy, soft thuds of Undertaker's boots ceased and his top hat tipped to the side as he watched William fumble through his blazer to pull out a waiver with slight difficulty.

"What's that you got there?" Undertaker asked as he was handed the paper, his bony fingers held the letter up towards his pale face. As he read through it for a minute, Alan peered around the corner to observe the situation, wondering why the shouts suddenly ceased and quiet overcame the hallway. Luckily, Undertaker's taller, wider form covered him from William's perspective as he his most of his body. "Hmmmm...what is this again?"

A low groan came from the base of Williams throat to show irritation. He cleared it and explained briefly,"A hearing...the one you asked Humphries to tell me to give you...but seeing you with a reaper nearly dead in your hand, I am about to reconsider-" Undertaker chuckled. "This is not a laughing matter!" William's brows furrowed as Undertaker immediately pocketed the form in his robe and then pulled out a bone cookie to snack on.

"If you were about to reconsider at the sight of me, then you shouldn't have given me the form, you fool! Uwahahahahahahahaha!"

Bits of crumbs came from Undertaker's mouth as he laughed while trying to swallow his treat. William scowled and then stepped to the side to let Undertaker pass once more, his sleeves brushing against William's, so that he could continue his journey to the Infirmary. Loud crackles from Undertaker filled the hallway, muffling the rhythmic taps of William's dress shoes as he breezed passed Alan, who backed away to give him room. Alan held his breath, afraid what William would if he realized he was peeking in on the conversation. He attempted to look casual by indiscreetly fascinating himself with a simple house plant. William took notice of this but walked on until he paused in his steps right behind Alan.

"I can assure you that I am not stupid, Mr. Humphries," William said with bitter tone, Alan froze, turning slowly to face him,"are you involved with the condition of Starveling?"

Alan stood there, eyes trying to shield themselves from the piercing gaze of Williams, and he eventually gave in. While he was not one to show emotion, he was prone to being more emotional than most reapers; it was possibly a result of mingling with humans in the past that enabled him to stand out at times. He fought the urge to twiddle his thumbs as he adjusted his glasses to say,"I am only involved as far as her muting herself...I alerted Undertaker as he instructed me to do so..."

"Instructed?" William questioned, eyebrow raising. "Walk with me, I want to know more about this as I tell the Council. Hurry."

"Not to be out of topic, Mr. Spears, but why is Sutcliff with you?" Alan attempted to keep up with the taller man's longer strides for the elevator.

""The Council had sent me a letter a week before to bring him to them on this date. Apparently, he is not in good health, but they wish to try him. He missed his last session the week before because of...well, you should know what happened since I, for one, refuse to speak of it."

Alan pressed the button and the two waited patiently for the lift to show its golden gates. "Trial? On what? The usual?" William nodded.

When any member on William's team asked 'the usual', it meant Grell's normal behavior regarding unpaid Sundry Expenses at the end of the month to his outlandish harassment upon (handsome) novice reapers. He wasn't exactly your model reaper and required constant care for at times. Care, meaning payment or some form of discipline. While William handled most of the discipline, it was the Council that determined his ranks and financial status; they simply needed a report from William to reel in Grell within a heartbeat.

"...so what was your instructions from Undertaker?" William asked after a moment of silence. The elevator opened and they walked in, the gates closed behind them as Alan pushed a button. Grell muttered in his sleep and rubbed up against William's chest for comfort. William glanced down and saw this to be...cute. His tense body lessening until Alan spoke.

"It's an investigation, he told me that once I find the person causing the Cinematic Rips to appear in England, I would tell him. If I find anyone suspicious, I would give that person Truth Serum and begin to interrogate them. At first I thought it was Ivan, you know how Americans are, but he was clean. Sure he has a few violations but he's normal," he reasoned out.

William took in the information and continued on,"And Starveling? She has worked here for a decade and has experience from other countries...now that you have me thinking, she did say that she switched Divisions every time a country collapses at least a year of her absence. It's been ten years. Nothing was suspicious until now?" Alan nodded. "...I will inform the Council of this then. However, collaborating with Undertaker is strictly forbidden to everyone unless necessary, you of all should know how unstable he is. He is no longer your mentor and is no longer mine...making a deal with him is like making one with a demon. Where is the use in doing as he asks?"

Alan went quiet though he glared at William. Besides Grell, Alan was the only one to have enough spunk to stand against William on the topic regarding Undertaker''s forced retirement. He was a bit touchy on the subject and was willing to defend him like a young puppy would of its new master. "...sometimes, Mr. Spears...family comes before this job, and I intend to keep it that way for as long as I live. Unlike you, I'm trying to enjoy the rest of eternity, without Undertaker, I probably would have been long gone by now." When the lift descended to their liking, Alan reached over to a silver lever and pushed down upon it to stop the lift on the ground floor. Its golden gates opened and they walked out.

-...-

Darkness enveloped him. Eric floated in the endless space as he twiddled with a soul in his hand, its wisps tickling his rough fingers and whirling about. He gave it a small poke and it jiggled slightly before escaping and swishing away to rejoin a group that was clustered ahead of him. His saw hung loosely in hand though his grip tightened when he felt a harsh tug on the other end. He whipped around to face the person was greeted by nothing. Green eyes scanned the vast area, it was useless to do so but was worth a shot in securing himself.

A group of the small balls of light drifted by his ears, he heard their giggles and moans and he turned to look at them. They instantly took off, revealing the face of man that had concealed himself behind them. Eric flinched and backed away at the sight of him, mostly out of surprise, and lashed out,"You need to stop doing that!"

The man's amber eyes gave him a playful look as he reached out to a soul, capturing it in his hand and pinching its tail to hold it in place. It squealed in discomfort but not in pain. He smiled and pressed his lips against it to give it a gentle kiss. Eric saw his features as more and more souls surrounded the two as though they were doing so upon the rescue of their little friend.

"Stop what? Hnm?"

He had a slightly smaller build than Eric's; he dressed in a similar fashion to that of an average reaper, though the color scheme was completely different. His vest was a moth eaten, faded shade of sapphire with gold embroidered to its edges, jewels that were sewn to it were either there or lost forever. His dress shirt in the neck was covered by multiple necklaces of various metals, along with a slight flare of frills from his dress shirt. His long overcoat, dyed white, was stained in blood, and they held numerous pouches and hooks in the underside, these stored numerous trinkets and instruments of his. A white bow held his long, black hair back in a loose pony tail, allowing his hail to float effortlessly in the world that lacked gravity.

The orbs huddled around but Eric brushed them away from his body when they approached. He failed to answer the question, prompting the man to move on,"Well, since you can't answer my question, I'm afraid of you leaving if I ask another. What of my assistant? Surely you called me here for more than a trade again. You remember the deal, yes?"

"Yes, yes...I won't run, I'm not a coward. I'm just going to say that Samantha is an incapable as a reaper."

"Oh?" He began to pierce his finger into the side of the soul ball, causing it to screech out in pain. "...alright then...what happened?"

"Undertaker got to her. I left as soon as I can to tell you."

He suddenly crushed the soul within his hand, prompting the other souls to flutter away. White, silver liquid leaked from his fingerless-gloved hand as he squeezed for more of the soul's essence to be released. Eric gagged slightly as the other snapped,"You didn't go out to save her? I charged you to protect her!"

"Then she grew too cocky! Before I left, a reaper by the name of Ronald Knox came in to save her. He's a capable fighter, he should be alright, Raoul..."

Raoul's sudden flare of rage ceased, he raised eyebrows at the sound of Ronald's name. "Knox, you say?...interesting..."

"Hey, you said we'll keep the deal away from anyone!" Eric warned dangerously, his death scythe appearing to use as a threat.

"Anyone who's names were never mentioned. Now that you tell me this, it'll get fun around here." He began to fade away in the darkness. "Your next task is to make sure Samantha is alive and well...and to make sure that you proceed in your other tasks I assigned for you. In reward for the last Cinematic Rip you distributed, I'll give you five souls." He reached into his coat and pulled out five, fresh and lively orbs of life and allowed them to be free in the world. Eric watched them and then looked over at Raoul's fading form.

"...what if those Cinematic Rips get noticed?"

But he was already gone. Eric shrugged, knowing that if this scheme was discovered he would be able to pull out without being suspicious. Slowly, he began to exit his own state of subconsciousness and emerge into a reality where water surrounded his entire body. He began to have doubts over the course of the year every once in a while._ And what would happen if the Rips are noticed?_

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><p>AN: Raoul means "wolf counselor" in French. Alright, this is the last, final update I have until Finals! Studying is needed to be done and I utterly fail at doing so!...so...remember, many readers and little reviews to match ratios! Support this fic but do not fear, I will not abandon this!

**READ AND REVIEW~!**


	13. Good Image of Good Nature

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji

A/N: Ooooooooooh~! For the first time ever, no switches in perspective! Enjoy~! Lucky to have this chapter squeezed out of my head...a nice way to break yourself before Finals, right? Well, review this! And thanks to those who have so far! Support this fic as I depart for the worse!

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><p><em>Clop! Clop! Clop!<em>

Many went out of the way as Ivan navigated through the streets. He was working his way through the Office District that was built around a main road leading from the stairs of the Grim Reaper Library. His horses snorted and bobbed their heads every once in a while as they lazily strode down the main street. Afternoon winds picked up, blowing their manes and tails to and fro, as he rounded a corner. It was an uncommon sight to see a horse and carriage in the area, but they were necessary for the transports of various Cinematic Records, messages, and other parcels that traveled from Division to Division. Only high ranking reapers owned such divine steeds, then again, they were not ordinary animals. Ivan, coming from the Baton Rouge Division, was a low ranked man but came with his horses when he arrived from the States.

He placed pressure on the left rains and slackened the right, allowing one horse to lead the other to the left. His gloves were well worn, and underneath them were practiced hands in the art of handling his scythe; they were worn down as well but remained as firm as they could for him. His stature was near William's height, only beaten by a few centimeters, and his build was near as Eric's masculine form. Ivan carried himself with the same amount of effort as his horses; unwilling to work and yet working, this was most noticed when he would perch himself upon the drivers seat and sit with a slouch, head low with a wide-brimmed fedora that shaded his face from the sun.

"C'mon, Kelly," he clucked to one horse, it brayed in return and he smiled slightly. It was rare to see him smile at all but every once in a while, he would, only for his animals. He turned his wrist to side to read the time. It was three in the afternoon, alcohol time. _Time for a break._ He gently pulled the reins and uttered,"Ho," to his horses. They came to a slow stop and stood there as he got down. He exchanged a quick wave with a reaper and walked towards a tavern; he walked in and took off his hat in respect.

He wore a navy trench-coat over a neat dress shirt and black vest that was aligned with pins. While dress code varied from Division to Division, he cared not, they were his badges of what he was in the past and was never willing to let it go. Some say it was unhealthy but he would brush such meaningless warnings, it's what kept him alive after all. He took his seat at a high stool at the bar, sitting next to a reaper that was attempting to drown his sorrows away. Ivan glanced over at him to see blond hair over a slumping man's head, between the two was a lawnmower; he was about to speak until the bartender came up to him.

It was Rivers, the brother of Lacey. During his free time, which was nearly every time, he ran a successful tavern against the Council's protests. A few years back, Rivers ran his establishment illegally in the London Division until one of the Elders was caught red handed, forcing the entire Council to allow Rivers to operate freely. Nowadays, it was a bustling place for any reaper to have their daily taste of the sinful drinks but there was a limit set very recently.

"Get me whiskey," Ivan ordered, frowning at Rivers, who nodded and ducked under the counter to pull out a glass. He placed it in front of Ivan and reached towards the reaper nearby, taking the bottle from him. Rivers carefully poured the fiery liquid into Ivan's glass. "Hn..."

"Better not get drunk if you're going to drive," Rivers warned him while stepping away. Ivan drank his drink gingerly as the blond next to him groaned."Poor bugger, he's been like this when he got here. Asked for a whiskey and just drank it, he's not drunk though...at least not yet. He came in before you did."

Ivan nodded, lacing several pounds on the bar. The blond turned his head to reveal himself to be Ronald Knox. "Heh, you look like shit," snorted Ivan. Ronald grumbled. "What'd you say?"

"I said Undertaker's gone mad" Ronald blew a tuft of hair away from his face and brushed a hand through to massage his aching scalp. This gained River's attention, he leaned against the bar to listen. Ronald's voice was low and defeated, not cocky and lighthearted like it would normally have been.

"Keep your voice down."

"Yeah, yeah...he went and attacked the pretty receptionist, you know? Samantha. The brunette with long hair? Yeah, her. He just...I tried to fight him but he kept raving about her being a traitor and all. He just went ballistic on her, broke a few legs and dragged her away like she was an animal. I tried to go after him...and...and he threatened to have me listed as a traitor. So I just let him go-" Ivan slapped him in the face, he grew angered by Ronald's retelling of his story. "Ah! Hey, what the bloody hell was that for? !"

Ivan withdrew his hand to lean against it. "Snap out of that...what'd Undertaker do to make you not save her? It can't just be _traitor and all_, there's other reasons..."

"One reason is why I'm here drinking," he answered, swirling his drink slightly,"the bastard asked me what was so important about Samantha. And...I just couldn't answer that. I'm so confused."

He laughed at him, as did Rivers.

"What's so funny? !"

"You banged a couple girls here and there, right? Of course I know, you use my back room!" Rivers grinned teasingly, pointing a thumb at the door to the right of the bar. "She's a regular for you, yeah? I'm not surprised if you get feelings for her. Why not just settle down, there's not that many girls here, right? Lacey told me that she's a nice one, you'll be lucky to have her."

Ronald scoffed and let a slight smile break from his frown. "It's just that's she's on and off, you know...Not exactly stable for a relationship but when she's ready, I'll let her come to me."

"Idiot, you're supposed to come to her," Ivan groaned, hand slapping on the wooden bar and causing Ronald to jump slightly,"you got a lot to learn. Did you die young or something? Because-" He heard the familiar whines of his precious horses from outside. Normally they were quiet but he turned his head to see through a window. Outside, he saw William placing Grell in the back while hopping in as Alan climbed to the driver's seat to grab a hold of the reins. Angered by their disrespect for his horses, he got off his stool and thundered over to the door, swinging it open and booming,"GET YOUR DAMN HANDS OFF MY HORSES!"

Alan stumbled from his seat from the sudden yell while William calmly looked at him, apologizing,"I am sorry, Mr. Ivan, but I failed to have recognized this to be yours." That was a flat out lie and Alan and Ivan knew it. "...would you be so kind as to drive us to the Council, I will pay you a thousand pounds." Ivan immediately relaxed and sighed. "Please, it is urgent."

Silent looks were exchanged as Ronald approached the scene, behind him was his death scythe. "What's the rush?" he asked, Alan briefly replied,"The usual-"

"I want to come with you," Ronald instantly blurted out, ignoring Alan. William eyed him like a hawk, indicating that he should either give an explanation or just shut up and leave them alone. Ronald shuffled in his feet but quickly found his words. "...I want to bring Undertaker to justice, he needs to be reported. He killed Samantha! Mr. Spears, can you give me a hearing when this is over with?"

"...of course, Ronald Knox, his actions as of late are becoming more and more rash. I fear for the safety of my workers." Ivan nearly laughed, for William stated his opinion with little to no emotion. _Fear for the safety, ha!_ He's the one sending them to the Infirmary on a daily basis! Ronald bobbed his head and quickly hopped in, wiping the suds off his mouth; Ivan clambered on and snapped the reins.

With a loud groan, the horses nickered and slowly hauled the carriage in a slow pace. William sat amongst the crates, keeping Grell in a bridal position in his lap as he rocked him slowly. Alan climbed back to join Ronald, who sat back against spare boards. The two watched Grell and William, Ronald reached into his coat and pulled out a cigarette to smoke, but he paused when he remembered Alan was there.

As Ronald was stowing away his cigarette, Alan stopped him by holding his wrist and saying,"I don't mind. Just do it." Ronald shook his head.

"You had an attack yesterday, I'm not triggering another one."

Alan scoffed and threw a glance at Ivan, then averted his eyes towards William and Grell. William remained quiet and stoic, only keeping his eyes on Grell. A hand that held the base of Grell's head threaded fingers through his crimson locks in an affectionate manner. He brushed away a lock of hair and tucked it behind Grell's ear. Grell murmured and shifted a bit, snuggling up once more against William's chest.

"William ought to relax," Alan sighed, his own hand brushing his hair back. They cascaded around his forehead once more, leaving it in a messy state, while Ronald turned his head to face him. Alan took out a comb and began to fix it to his preference. "...he was shouting at me the whole time while getting here, but I guess he's worried about Grell."

"Worried? I never seen him worry about Grell or anyone here." Ronald frowned but Alan exerted,"When someone's worried about something, they need to have an output for their anxiety. Mine is...mine is writing stories; Eric's is slicing up bodies to pieces; Undertaker's is to laugh; William...just lashes out at anyone. If it's Grell involved, he can't handle himself, he looses his cool. I'm surprised he lasted this long without murdering someone."

Ronald nodded and laid back, legs extending out in front of him as he held back his head to look up at the blood-red sky. "Undertaker did that. I swear, the madman didn't listen when I said to go to the Infirmary first for Grell. And when Grell got worse, that's when he decides he can go get treated. Now this happened to Samantha...I want him out of this place. What if he hurts you? Aren't you afraid?"

"...no, not really. I have bigger fears than him." He gave a weak laugh and investigated the cargo that they propped themselves against. "I wouldn't blame you though, I guess it was good that they forced him to retire."

"I thought he retired on his own," Ronald exclaimed, shocked by the news. All this time, he was told that Undertaker was a saint of source to all reapers in the European Divisions. And in the height of his career, decided to retire for the peaceful life of a human mortician. However, hearing that he was forced to retire made much more sense to him. Perhaps the old man descending from his high was the only good image the Council and rumors had to keep Undertaker's good nature. "Explains a lot. Had he always been...a bit mental?"

"He has his moments...but...in honesty, he was. He still is. I really dunno why...it's ironic, really, I've been with him longer than anyone in this Division and I barely know a single thing about him."

William suddenly intervened; the two jumped at the sound of his cold voice,"And yet you're the closest to him. Would you mind telling me why he has decided to act up as of late?" Alan shifted around uncomfortably in his seat. "Undertaker has been a retired reaper for years, nearly a century. You know why and yet, under the circumstances set in 1712, you still collaborate with him. It can be considered treachery if I were to tell the Council unless you comply to my query. Mr. Ivan, hurry it up, this is urgent."

Ivan complied and snapped a crop and clucked his tongue, motivating the horses into a fast trot. "We'll be there in ten minutes at this pace, sir."

"Mr. Humphries, that is the time you have to tell me what is going on."

Alan stared at him, expression neutral. He analyzed William carefully, as if checking over to see if he were to suddenly strike out and rip him open for Cinematic Records. _Get real, he can't do that._ He shook away the fear and stowed away his comb. He cleared his throat. "Simple...he asked me to do this, so I did as instructed."

"You are dodging my question." Alan gave him a testing look. He wasn't going to speak unless William asked specifics; he let a frustrated sigh escape his lips as he closed his eyes. "What were you instructed to do?"

"I already told you!...ugh, Mr. Spears, poking at my side with your death scythe isn't going to improve Sutcliff's condition! Stop making these ridiculous threats and relax! I told you what Undertaker wanted from me and what I did is completely legal! It's not like I'm giving him the To Die Lists and saying 'Go reap for the hell of it!' or anything! How many times are you going to ask me the instructions? !"

It fell quiet between the two, Alan panted slightly from his sudden outburst. He was sitting up completely so that he could challenge William to his fullest. William counted to three in his head before opening his eyes to look at him. "...I apologize."

The atmosphere grew intense, Ronald simply tried to wave it off by looking the other direction while the horses dealt with it by bobbing their heads unattractively.

"I accept that," Alan rasped, falling into place slowly and calming down,"I'll tell you one thing. He told me to start this at least two years ago, it was little observation tasks and information gathering...a year ago, Cinematic Rips began appearing so he's had me scour the whole Division for any sort of information regarding the Rips. When nothing came out, I ordered for the Cinematic Records of reapers that are from the fallen Divisions. Undertaker gathered Cinematic Rips, I analyze them, then I look for the Cinematic Records from each country that are connected to the Rips. It was a pain to do, but I managed it...the result of each Rip involves Samantha Starveling, I found out about this today so I tried to interrogate her. Of course, that failed."

William was quiet but attentive to listen. "I see, now I know why he refuses to give me the Cinematic Rips."

"...why? If you're trying to implant them into a reaper, it's the wrong way to go."

"How so?"

"For one, emotions are connected to memories and vice versa. If emotions from another memory intertwine with a living being who does not have the experience of that particular emotion, it will mess up the structure of their Cinematic Records. The only purpose Rips have are repressing memories...once the emotions are gone, the reaper or human can't remember what triggered the said emotions...they're intertwined very deeply. Undertaker knows a lot more, I'm still studying from him. I'm just learning to handle it. I mean...I know how to create Rips, but only from the dead, not the living."

Ronald, who remained silent the entire conversation, broke in,"You should be in the interrogation team with Lacey."

"I'd love to, but he's just...boring."

"Hey, you got a smoother tongue than Eric. If he were placed with a suspect, he'd probably rip their necks off in ten seconds if they don't spit a word out."

"Gee...thanks, Starveling was my first...and she didn't turn out well."

They exchanged quick laughs until their carriage bumped into a slow stop. Ivan turned and said,"Sorry to break you're little powwow here but you." He pointed at William. "But you owe me one thousand pounds since I got your asses here, sir. Now get out of my carriage and give me my money." William sighed and ruffled about to retrieve his wallet. He tossed it to Ronald as he managed to climb out. "Knox, give the man the money."

"Yes, sir," Ronald answered, brushing his blazer and catching the wallet. He opened it and took out several bills to hand to Ivan. "Here." Once they were out of the carriage, the American snatched up the money and counted it carefully. He pocketed it and snapped the reins, speeding away without a grateful remark. "...honestly, Americans are rude."

"Alan, put Sutcliff's glasses on his face," William instructed to the short reaper, but he paused, realizing that they were left on his desk,"damn it, never mind that. Let's go inside."

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	14. Without Anesthetics

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji

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><p>"Uwaaaah...pop!" Undertaker giggled to himself when he turned around from a cupboard carrying several medical supplies. The said supplies included a kit, several rolls of bandages, anti-bacterial cleanser, and a large roll of stitches. He wandered over to Samantha and placed the basket of items down next to a bowl of water. He cleansed his hand and wiped them dry, he faced her as she laid her her back, smiling with a rag in his hand. "...such a beautiful work of art you are..."<p>

Samantha had regained consciousness but was gagged with a wad of cloth in her mouth and restrained with her wrists high above her head, tied to the bars of the headboard. She tried to scream, yet she failed due to her chest aching like hell. She tried to move as well but was too numb in various parts of her body to move. The lady settle for screaming silently as she watched his hands graze over her blazer and unbutton it quickly, along with her vest and dress shirt. He smiled in a perverse manner.

"I hadn't operated on anyone alive, so do you best to bare with it," he snickered to her, she flinched when his nails fumbled on what appeared to be a corset,"ah, this is a pretty contraption you got on your chest. I hope you don't mind me." With ease, Undertaker quickly ripped away the corset, the strings tying it together were snapped in an instant. He placed it to the side of another bed and turned his attention to her ribs. Gingerly, he touched each one, prodding once in a while. He smiled when he discovered three of them were dislocated and cracked; he felt the sharp edge of the bone. "You got a broken rib here...here, oh, and here...heh...nothing I can do there, I'll just leave as it is. You'll just have to deal with those..."

He shuffled to the side, stopping at her legs, and grabbed the one with the busted joint. "This will take time too." He snapped it and set it back in place with a sickening pop. He lifted it higher and placed a pillow underneath so that it would stay in place. In a second, he brought a bandage out, along with two, metal rods. He held both rods at either side of her knee and began to wrap the bandages around.

It was quiet between them, save for the tears of pain leaking from Samantha's eyes. She whimpered pitifully but he laughed at her in response. He was going slow deliberately, his wrist bumping her fracture on purpose so that she would loose a breath. When he was done, he pinned the both in place and took his supplies so that he may look over the next one. He poked at her before rubbing her calf to find that it was split in half. "Oh, I can do this one."

One hand to the ankle, another hand to her knee, he pulled and forced the broken bone to lock back in place. Her back arched as she squirmed about. He punched her on her broken ribcage to warn her to stay still; it didn't help her at all but she froze in place, eyes squeezing shut as she bit into the wad of cloth with her teeth. Undertaker reached over and took a flat board, he positioned it under her calf and began wrapping the cloth around once more, this time, he went faster. After a few minutes of strained silence, he walked over to her and reached over to dab a fresh cloth in the bowl of water. He began to clean her bloodied face, then he noticed a horizontal slash that ran from under her eye, through the bridge of her nose, and ended under the other eye. He played with the split pieces of flesh by pinching her nose and pulling it; the cartilage was severely severed.

"Looks like I'll have to taint that pretty face you got. Hm?" He cleaned the rest of her face to remove the dried blood and walked around the bed to be where he started his unaesthetic operation. "Stitches are the only way to close that up."

He readied a needle and thread for a few minutes, then, turning to face her, bent over and began to sew her wound. If he cared for her, he would have taken the time to make the stitches discreet. Instead, he did the opposite and left large gaps and even double stitched unnecessary parts. She cried, sobbing and biting unto the cloth even harder, he swore she heard her tear through it. Her elbows trashed about over her head, managing to smack Undertaker across the cheek. He dropped his needle and tweezers to growl at her, she cringed into the pillow, her breath hitching.

"I wouldn't try that, young wolf," Undertaker warned, smiling devilishly. He finished the last stitch and began to clean up. "Now...to get you to the Council...hnm...I suppose carrying you will do. No, you'll get noticed..."

He pondered over his predicament as he fixed her shirt, vest, and blazer back on, leaving the corset behind. He took a step back and sat on the bed next to her, a nail tapped on his cheek thoughtfully but then he shrugged. "It won't matter, all the better for everyone to know your face." He got up to undo the knot binding her wrists together. When given the chance, she sprang up but threw herself back down in the sharp, sudden pain she had forgotten. "I warned you. Heh..." Quickly, he gathered her into his arms; he carried her gently but threatened to drop her on whim.

A few steps to the door suddenly became a few steps back when Eric opened it, his face from crestfallen to in shock. "Undertaker! What're you doing here?" Eric eyed Samantha. So the damage was not as bad as he thought, at least Undertaker had the balls to fix her up. "...with Starveling..."

"She fell off a roof in London, her lights went out so I decided to tidy her up in my shop. When I found out I didn't have what I needed, the Library's Infirmary was a good place to resupply."

"You got have taken her to the Hospital Ward below...the Infirmary is only temporary," he grumbled, stepping to side to egg Undertaker to leave,"oh, I'm looking for Alan. Had you see him?"

Undertaker looked to the side, then back at him. "Why, no, not at all. I told him to tell William to get me a hearing...now I got the papers, I'm off to the Council...oh, that reminds me, I need to sign it!" He chimed happily, he instantly handed Samantha into Eric unwelcoming arms as he searched for a fountain pen and his waiver. "Hold her, don't run off."

As Undertaker allowed several items to clatter out from his unassumingly deep pockets, Eric and Samantha shared a silent conversation that required eye movements. Samantha was silently pleading for Eric to take of with her in tow but he failed to respond to it. Even though it was her issue, Eric kicked himself mentally to remember that she was the reason why he was gaining an extra soul ever now and then. Undertaker turned for a nearby table, hunching over and scribbling over the paper. Eric took several steps back and attempted to be out of earshot as Undertaker groaned at the realization of the pen being out of ink.

"Stay here, Eric, I need to get a pen, yes...I need a pen..." Without turning to check on them, he was gone. Eric watched her tear away the gag around her head, she clutched to the cloth and stammered out,"W-why aren't...y-y-you running? ! No...Now's our chance! L-let's go!"

"Are you stupid? I thought I was the blond here...but you're in deep shit, if I run off, everything will be blown and Raoul doesn't get his reapers anymore if protocols boost up!" He hissed. "Don't you want to make Raoul happy?"

Samantha fell quiet, she stuffed the gag into her mouth as a way of showing that she didn't want to speak when Undertaker suddenly popped up in front of them. She squealed at the sight of him and coward into Eric's chest as Undertaker grabbed a hold of her to carry her once more.

"Thank you, now if you will excuse me...I have a hearing to attend to."

"I'll go," he offered, walking after him.

-...-

Ronald looked around at his surroundings. For the twenty years he had worked as a reaper, he never had the chance to visit the Council before, let alone the building in which their trials and meetings were held. He fallowed William and Alan while being an awe at the grandness of the the architecture.

Unlike most of the buildings in the London Division, which were pretty recent and modern, this particular building had an old Gothic feel. It was almost something an ordinary human from the Medieval Ages would design. The entrance was a large oak door, similar to the Library's, with intricate carvings of various events that were important to the history of grim reapers. Due to its vastness, only a fourth of the wood had actual markings, indicating that there would be more events to come. His hand unconsciously brushed against the oak wood but he snapped his attention back to the two men he was fallowing.

Once inside, there were numerous pillars with grim reapers from all over the world and time etched into the pearl white marble. They shared stoic faces and carried all sorts of scythes. There was one of Undertaker representing the London Division and then there was one of Ivan from the Baton Rouge Division.

"Wait, Ivan's a legendary reaper? But what dd he do?" he asked, William and Alan paused in their steps to turn and face him. William shrugged,"Simple, he is the only reaper in that Division."

"Then who's reaping souls in America?"

"Angels, they work as his slaves. That's what got him famous too," added Alan, they turned and continued down the hall. Ronald walked on, his Oxfords brushing against the fine, satin carpet. Amazingly, in the somewhat short and grand hall, it lead to a single door ahead of them. To the right of the door was a desk and a receptionist typing madly at a typewriter. When the trio approached them, William cleared his throat.

"I need to see the Council, it is highly urgent of me to do so," he stated, the receptionist paused and looked up at the two. She fought the urge to type and nodded, getting up from her chair to sidle to the left. She opened the door to enter, leaving it wide open, and then returned.

She nodded, shaking slightly, before going back to her feverish work at the desk. "Thank you," he said, bowing slightly but could not go all the way to give a proper one. Alan and Ronald were about to fallow until a pole extended out to them, blocking their path to William. "Do not mind them, they are with me." She retracted her death scythe slowly and nodded apologetically. She sent her weapon away and went back to typing. The three went their way. "She's a Mute. It's for the safety of information. She's the strongest of all in the Division besides Sutcliff..."

Alan threw a backwards glance at her as she closed the door behind them. They were in a brightly lit room, perches of desks and stands encircled them above by five feet, each with a candle lit. The design of room was like a dome; the roof was high above their heads and had everlasting torches burning around the interior. Under the center of the roof was a circle with a single chair used by the Council to asses any reaper they were speaking to. There, William carefully sat Grell, propping him so that he would not fall.

"Sutcliff," he murmured, pinching Grell's ear very tightly. The latter snorted and bit away at his hand, his hand flailed about until he roused from his slumber. His lips smacked together as he licked to moisten them. He opened his eyes and was in utter confusion; he shirked away from William and sat deeper in his chair. "You are in The Hall, show some sort of profession."

"I'm sorry, I can help you there...you just knocked me out and dragged me here!" He spat at him. "Why do I have to meet with them? I thought I finished my last hearing the week before!"

As Grell's protests were ignored, William dropped down to one knee, as did Alan, when dark forms began to materialize behind the desks. They kept their heads low out of respect while Ronald hesitated to mimic the same action; Grell sat in his seat glaring daggers at the forms without showing a single shred of honor. From the darkness came voices, then bodies and facial features of the Elders. Each were dressed in black suits with the only difference were the trench coats they wore over their shoulders. Some took them off and hung it behind chairs while others shuffled papers.

In total, there were thirteen of them. They ignored the reapers below them until they settled down in their seats.

"Rise up, Spears," one said in a bored fashion. He sat at the largest, most elaborated desk. His hair was pure white, its smooth locks tied back in a tight ponytail. Behind his black, rectangular spectacles, his eyes scanned the four below him. "Why did you call for us?"

"Wait, I thought this was a meeting for my check in of soul collections!" Grell interrupted. He earned a smack behind the head as William rose, adjusting his glasses. "Will~...if it was about the harassment of the youngsters, I already apologized! Don't tell me he's trying to sue me, ah!"

William hit Grell again as he rose to address the Head,"Sir Richardson...excuse me for my late notices, but I bring to you Grell Sutcliff."

"You do realize that you can't report him for every little thing he does, right? You're a big boy now, Spears...learn to be more independent." Several chuckles from the other members were fallowed as he laughed under his breath. William gritted his teeth. Every time he entered the damn room, the Elders would always find a way to mock him and he would never know why. He reached to grab a tuft of Grell's hair, much to Grell's own discomfort, and forced his head back to present his face to Richardson.

"He's not wearing his important glasses."

"Then get him new ones!" exclaimed the reaper next to Richardson. He too had white hair but his features appeared fresher and much more youthful. After all, he was the newest of the Council to join as a replacement for a certain retired reaper. The others nodded in agreement until another held up his hand. They fell silent. "Huh?"

The one who silenced them laid back in his chair, pointing at the other two that stood side by side next to Grell. "Why're they here?"

"Alan Humphries is here under his reports of a suspected traitor in our Division. He has been collaborating with Undertaker."

Everyone stopped in their side conversations to eye Alan, who fidgeted in his place. Richardson's attention was full on Alan, his feet, which were on his desk, fell back so that he sat properly in his seat. It appeared showed much more interest in Alan than Grell, mainly because he was a regular and they were growing tired of his constant mishaps. However, those mishaps would never have appeared if William hadn't have had them reported in the first place. Alan nervously let an eyelid twitch at the feeling of all eyes upon him as William began to explain Ronald's reason,"And Ronald Knox is here regarding the condition of Sutcliff."

Richardson leaned against his desk, looking at Alan directly,"What is it that Undertaker has been doing lately?"

"Assaulting reapers, that's what!" Ronald blurted out randomly, but it was only a reflex. "He killed someone-"

"Knox, I order you to remain silent!" William hissed dangerously, Ronald looked down at the floor as Alan began to speak,"H..Undertaker had taken up interest in the collapse of the Divisions of Romania, Spain, France, and Germany. Also, he discovered the appearances of Cinematic Rips. Since I'm the only reaper who can read them, he asked me to find those who owned the Rips and investigate their Cinematic Records as well; all of them were owned by reapers tied to the collapses over the past twenty years, the first being France and the increase of angels there."

Alan began to gain more confidence, he event walked up to be closer to Richardson as he grew strength in his tone. "Ronald Knox and Grell Sutcliff are here because of their encounter with one of the Rips. I hadn't gotten the chance to watch them but Undertaker has been gathering them for me. If he were here, I would be more than glad to tell you who owns the Rips. Either way, they held the same image of another reaper, Samantha Starveling, who transferred here from the Madrid Division of Spain nearly a decade ago. I tried to interrogate her, I got a confession out of her."

Pens began to scribble upon paper, then they paused to await for more information.

"And what was the confession?"

"She's not reaper to begin with and that she knows the whereabouts of the reapers who went missing during the collapses. She claims her 'Master' works with these reapers but from what she described to me, it's more of a slave trade in this place called the Everto."

"Slavery of reapers? Now that's something new," Grell quipped, Alan went over to him.

"The more I studied her, the more I realized that there was a pattern in her connected to the destruction of every Division. First, she would transfer over and spend time there so that she would blend in. Once in there, she would seduce a reaper closest to her and use him for further infiltration of the Division's infrastructure." Ronald began to grow pale, perhaps what Undertaker claimed was true. "After that, however...about a year or so of being with that particular reaper, she would suddenly leave. Another year would pass and then the entire Division falls apart from whatever she done to trigger it. I hadn't gotten into full specifics of what she does but that's the basics...Sir Richardson."

They nodded in agreement, though Ronald looked as though he were on the verge of collapsing himself.

"If what you say is true, she may have already found someone by now and is already working her way into whatever she does," Richardson sighed, exasperated,"and asking for help from the other Councils is useless since they are gone. Humphries, what do you suggest we do?"

"Simple, find the one involved with Starveling and we can work from there. Plus, Sutcliff is one of the reapers she tampered with as well."

Grell snapped his head up as Alan pointed at his eyes. "Get your hands off me!"

"His eyes are human."

"What are you talking about, they are normal! They just hurt when I put my glasses on!" He cried out, squirming to get out of Alan's touch. Richardson leaned forward and squinted to see what Alan was trying to prove. "Alan, let go of me!"

As he whined, several Elders stood up and began to leave, each passed Richardson and faded away into the darkness where their torches failed to illuminate. He got up as well, nodding,"I understand that now. If you will excuse us, we need to go take care of something. You mentioned the Everto, correct?" Alan gave a confidant 'yes' and he stood in place. "Well, if what you are saying is true, then we need to check on that world-"

"The Everto? Hold on," William suddenly said, taking a step forward,"we, reapers, are not allowed to be there!"

"Ordinary grim reapers, yes...Elders, no. Now...good afternoon to you-"

Ronald let out a call to them, his fist shaking at his sides. The strangled yell was enough to stop movements and have the attention cast down to him. Only a good five of the Elders paused in their place to stare at him. "Samantha Starveling, she seduced me...but whatever Alan said about her is wrong, she's...she's been with me for five years and hadn't left!" The Elders began to go back to their original seats as he fumbled though his mind to say words. "I don't know what she does or anything like that..."

"That amount of time would give her long enough to do whatever she does to reapers!" exclaimed one, his glasses tilted. "Richardson, what do we do?"

"...arrest Knox there, keep him in custody until I figure out what to do...Spears, you go and find Starveling-"

The doors flew open with a rattle and thud, they banged against two pillars and threatened to fly back. Remaining reapers summoned their scythes at the sight of the one who barged in without warning. Did the collapse already start? No, it did not, for it was merely Undertaker grinning widely with Samantha in arms. Eric stood by but fallowed in as Undertaker walked over to Grell. Richardson eyed him like a hawk, wary of what he was planning to do, as Undertaker merely dropped Samantha to the ground in front of Grell, earning a muffled scream from her.

"Mistreatment, breaking and entering the Council without permission, and collaboration with a reaper...my my, Undertaker, it's like asking to be arrested," sneered the Head, bitterness filled his throat and replaced the unamused demeanor he carried. Undertaker waved at him, then the others, as he placed a clad boot on Samantha's ribs.

"If it's anyone to be arrested, it should be her," he smiled at him, he dug his heal and extracted a painful cry from her. He reached into his robes and pulled out a paper airplane, he launched it at Richardson though it landed perfectly on the desk. "And I do have permission. You can accuse me of only mistreatment, not the other two."

Out of impulse of hearing Samantha's cries, Ronald instantly summoned his scythe and was ready to strike out at Undertaker. Simultaneously, Eric done the same. The two clashed overhead above Samantha, she screamed and tried to wriggle away as Grell yelped in surprise, leaping of of his chair to avoid the sparks.

"Maybe Samantha had seduced more than one person?" Grell giggled when he was by William, safe and sound from the ensuing fight that erupted out of nowhere.

"I would not be one to say that in your position, Sutcliff, you're just evidence in this."

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><p>AN: Just a chapter I came up with while studying. My god, I'm a nervous wreck...look at how much I wrote!

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	15. Open Maws

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji

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><p>Eric coolly, and loftily, held his saw against Ronald's lawnmower; the rotational blades spun and sparked over Samantha, she tried to worm her way but Undertaker suppressed her further. Ronald snorted and stomped one foot to the ground to anchor himself, then he heaved his scythe to the side to aim for Undertaker's ribs. A heart-wrenching holler came from the youngest reaper as his eyes flared with hatred when he stepped over Samantha to keep her covered. When Eric realized that Ronald's own target was another, he relaxed and withdrew.<p>

"Why do you have to be so damn twisted? !" He cried out, death scythe hurling at the retired reaper that leaped back twice to perch himself onto the high chair behind him. Grell and William went off to the side to give room, though William had his pruning tool at the ready, should the fight get out of hand. "I can't see her as a traitor...she isn't the kind to do that!" Undertaker had a long nail to his teeth and was biting at it in anticipation, waiting for Ronald's impulsion get the best of him. Obviously, it done so when he pushed the envelope by not responding. Ronald set a foot to the seat and swung his death scythe from the side to high above his head. When Samantha realized she had the chance to escape, she took it and used her hands to drag herself along the floor in a pitiful manner.

Undertaker held out his both hands, when the machine was close enough to snip a few strands of hair, he clamped his hands on either edge to stop it. With perfect balance, he squatted down to one foot on the chair while bringing the other outstretched one in a great arch below him, kicking the chair under him and Ronald. The blond was taken by surprise and, due to his weight being on the chair, was launched over Undertaker, who fell back with the chair. He smiled wildly,"Choose your mates better in life, little lamb, little do you know if they are the black sheep here."

As Ronald was in midair, Undertaker took his suspension as a chance to spin the scythe in a semicircle before launching both it and Ronald towards the roof. Being a stubborn reaper, Ronald clutched to the handle bars despite Grell's warnings,"Ronnie~...you might want to let go of that!" Samantha struggled her way to Grell's feet and hooked an arm around him, though he stepped out of her reach and went to William's other side. "The poor thing...Will...I think we should end her suffering, look at her..."

"...I see her, I see her..."

There was an almighty crash between Ronald and a torch handle when he collided with it, everyone looked up. He yelped in pain when his blazer was set aflame by the everlasting fire. He instantly sent away his scythe so that he may let go of it and remove his precious coat. _That son of a bitch._ As gravity decided to be a bitch, he was sent falling towards the ground. Eric shook his head and stood out with arms spread open in disappointment as his lower came crashing like a ball of fire. A thunk and a heave later, Ronald sprung forth from Eric's arms and threw his blazer to the ground, stomping the fire out. Undertaker laughed at his situation and was about to earn a fist to the face until clings of metal against metal resounded from the Head of the Elders.

"Enough of this! _Enough!_ This is The Hall, I demand respect for this place and for others that may enter!" Richardson bellowed from his spot. He was utterly agitated by the other's barbaric tendencies as he addressed William,"Spears, these are your men, I believe...I expected much of your full power to apprehend their actions!" William bowed apologetically. "And none of that! Now you, Undertaker!"

The mortician was still laughing over Richardson's rage,"What, what you say~? ! The little brat deserved it!" He grew louder as Ronald danced about his flaming article. "Watch him dance like a monkey-"

Richardson waved a hand at the various damages wrought to The Hall; the broken chair mended itself, out of Grell's fascination, and the torch's handle welded its steel frame back to its perfection as he directed his words to Undertaker,"If there was any other reason to set you to prison, it would be the young lady that crawls on the ground like a newborn filly...the rest of you. You all will stay here confined until this entire matter is dealt with." He glanced over at the rest of the Elders still in the room, they took it as a silent leave and faded away into the shadows. Richardson flicked his wrist at the door that Undertaker opened earlier, it closed on its own and locked itself from the outside.

Everyone, save Undertaker and Ronald, went silent as they patiently waited for their attentions. Samantha struggled away from Grell and began heading towards the door; Alan stood in front of her with his death scythe out, brandished in a threatening manner until he brought to her face. She froze in place and stared at the gleaming silver as Richardson snapped,"Weapons away, Humphries, Slingby!"

They reluctantly sent away their death scythes but kept attentions on Samantha as Grell clung to William's arm in curiosity. He whispered to his superior,"Why not put your death scythe away?...you don't want to piss Richardson off, do you?"

"Unlike the rest of you, I have the authority to establish and maintain order," he briefly explained as Undertaker eventually calmed with the fire that sizzled out, he raised his voice,"my subordinates understand your displeasure, Sir Richardson, and apologies are for you. Now, if you can continue on so that we may clear up the issue at hand." He bowed once more and adjusted his glasses to perfection.

The Elder carefully examined each reaper in the room, starting with Undertaker and ending with Alan. He fully observed each one as though he were looking into their souls. His first order was,"One of you, get Starveling to the chair." He pointed at her and directed it towards the newly mended chair. "...one of you, not Undertaker."

Undertaker groaned as Eric stepped in to volunteer, he stepped over to her slowly but she lashed out at him, hissing furiously,"Don't touch me!" He ignored her and closed in on her, scooping her lithe form into his arms and carrying her to the chair. When he neared it, she lunged up to bite his neck hard enough to draw blood and tear through muscle; he let out a strained, surprised wail,"You bitch!" and released her, dropping her to the ground and instantly giving her a shoe to the face. A crack was heard from her nose breaking. She clutched it and quickly snapped it back into place as she howled in pain,_"Claustra!"_

A black pentagram in a circle surrounded her body as Alan rushed to Eric's side; the larger, stronger reaper slumped to the side while leaning against the stone wall. Alan gave a small murmur of,"Eric!" as he assessed the wound. Eric was barely breathing and was on the verge of loosing consciousness. His breaths were short and hollow when his neck curved to the side, Grell ran over to him as blood spurted out from the wound as William swiftly brought forth his clippers to strike at Samantha. She closed her eyes and shielded herself with arms, though the weapon failed to break the invisible barrier.

Richardson sat up from his seat in alarm. What Undertaker had done to Samantha may have been justifiable now than earlier, for the eye for an eye policy he was about to deliver to him was forgotten at Eric's sudden plight. "Undertaker," he said simply, the other nodded and rushed over to the group that clustered around Eric, who began to cry out in agony. Richardson could only observe from where he stood as Undertaker got to one knee, shooing away both Alan and Grell, and brought forth a vial.

"Open his mouth," he commanded, Alan done so,"and hold him against the wall." Grell took that task and kept hands at Eric's shoulders to prop him up. Undertaker placed down the vial as Ronald, who immediately ran over to William, began to revolt against William and attempt to reason him into Samantha's innocence. She watched from her spot at the scene she caused, then laid down completely with her cheek resting on arm to catch her short breaths. William ignored Ronald, quickly casting him to the side, to fully assault the barrier. His clippers rebounded with every swing and he instantly gave up trying so that he may take a step back to study it. Finding no other solution, he approached Richardson, sporting a pill dispense along his way.

Meanwhile, Grell remembered this procedure from before when Undertaker released a Cinematic Rip from Ronald. He was splattered down the front in blood from Eric as Undertaker brought a hand to his chest and pressed against it. After a few pushes, a slither of white came from his mouth and began to float away from the reapers out of fear. Alan took a hold of it and lead it into the tiny vial that Undertaker placed to the ground; the latter produced another, larger, one and shoved the contents down Eric's throat. He got up, saying,"It'll be another half hour until he could talk...no medicine will be given to him, understood?"

Alan nodded vigorously as Eric slumped to the side and laid in Alan's lap, passing out. The brunette felt for the wound on Eric's neck, it was beginning to heal itself at a tremendous rate, when Ronald slowly walked over to Samantha and sat right to her, trying to comfort her. She turned her head and eyed him weakly, he gave a smile to her, when Grell advanced upon him. Half way to his goal, Richardson spoke out,"Grell Sutcliff..." Grell looked over at him to see that he held the Scarlet in his hand. "...you are in possession of this drug, am I correct or not?"

Grell, at the sight of the drug, rushed over and tried to jump up to grab it. It was out of his reach. "It's mine! You reminded me, I need to take it now!" Undertaker chuckled at Grell's fail attempts of retrieving his addiction. "Give it to me, will you? !"

"Looks like the effects are have already taken place. I...I bet he can't even remember what happened the past month or so..." There was a soft giggle from the pentagram, Samantha found the strength to sit up, she glared at Ronald, who immediately stood up from her as though she were to bite at him. Everyone's attention turned to her as her dry voice continued. "Master will be pleased about this."

"Samantha, what are you talking about?" Ronald asked, still denying what she had done to Eric; the two locked eyes but then Undertaker came flying at him, covering his eyes and turning him around. "GAH! Sod off, bastard!"

Undertaker snickered,"I suppose you aren't needed here so I say you keep quiet and don't do anything a human would do. Then again, you were once but you're a _god_ now, show some class!" He scrambled away from Ronald and went over to William's side. "And yes, Richie, that was found in his possession."

"You aren't even part of the conversation!" Richardson exclaimed, Undertaker grinned. "I want an account...now that we established some sort of order, we can return to the issue at hand...now...Starveling, you have some sort of connection to Sutcliff with the Scarlet?"

Samantha laid low, unmoving, she shrugged,"I gave it to him and said to take it whenever he needed it, and it looks like he needs it right now."

Grell whipped his head around, nearly cracked his neck, as he suddenly rattled from his throat,"That's right, she's right, I'm right! I need it now!" With a far-fetched hop, he managed to get high enough to snatch away the pills from Richardson's outstretched arm. Richardson flung about and attempted to reach out to Grell for the pills but was too slow. "Ha!" William, on the other hand, quickly stole back the pills and tossed it to the Head. "Damn it, William! I needed that! Please! AH~!" He let out a scream and fell to the floor, clutching his eyes. "Make it stop~!" He began to trash about, wailing in pain.

His mind was scrambled like a cracked egg for breakfast as he fought the pain his body faced. He kicked around when his hands released his face, when he opened them, all he saw was white and nothing else, but every once in a while, he would see a spec of red and then something that looked like it came from a child's nightmare. He heard the clatter of metal against the marble flooring and felt weight retraining his limbs from moving. Unknown to him who it was, he screamed and clawed out at whoever mounted him. In his mangled eyesight, he saw a feral beast attempting to maw him over, starting with his eyes. He bore his teeth at it and lunged up, taking a bite at its own mouth and grinding his teeth. Hard.

The beast howled and fell back, laughter filled the room as Grell desperately scrambled to his feet and ran blindly into a chair. He tried to climb over it, or sidle to the side, but failed when his foot became entangled in the leg, causing him to stumbled forward with his face planted into the seat. The laughter rang louder in his ears as he shrieked,"STOOOOP THIS!" He pushed forward until a hand took a clump of his hair and pulled his head back.

There was a sharp command from this Hell,"Give the damn medicine to him! Humphries, get Ivan!"

His mouth opened in a sharp gasp, he felt three little, solid drops fall into his tongue. Tasting it as the Scarlet drug, he swallowed it and collapsed on to the floor, twitching.

Behind him, he heard the pants of an exhausted man. The electrifying pain in his eye sockets faded into numbness, though his vision was restored. He found himself on his side sprawled out like a doll. He tested his limbs to find they lacked restraints, so he Grell slowly sat up. He looked around to see Ronald with his back pressed against the wall,his lips twitched in disgust so Grell asked,"What's wrong?" Ronald looked green, and he was, when he turned to the side and vomited onto the marble floor. "...was it...something I said?"

A throbbing pain resonated from the back of his brain, indicating that whatever happened caused a migraine to appear. He fought it and felt something wet on his lips, his fingers reached up to gingerly touch it. He pulled them away and looked at the tips to see that there was dark blood. He licked his lips. The metallic taste was there, a sinking feeling began to befall him; his heart dropped below sea level when he shifted in a semicircle to see William on the ground groaning in pain as he wallowed like a pig in his own blood. From where he saw William was grasping himself, it was most likely his throat. Instantly, Grell crawled to him but felt a boot to his side, he flew to the other side of the room as he yelped. His eyes strained to see Undertaker by William's side, flipping him to his back, as Richardson leaped down from his perch to examine the issue further.

Grell's heart-rate increased. _...he was the monster to me_? He tried to stand to his feet until Ronald brought out his death scythe out to hold it into front of Grell. His shaking hands were at eye level with the redhead that understood his intentions should he carry on with them. Ronald was pale at the sight of William, he wanted to run away but remained where he was, saying,"Grell...you stay here...just...just stay here." He gagged slightly though he fought it down his throat. Grell sat there, helpless, tears forming. _I...did that...to William..._

Richardson knelt by Undertaker, his fingers ghosting over an overlarge gap in William's throat. From what Grell and Ronald could see, the veins and arteries were exposed to a point where they were pulsing. Undertaker slapped Richardson's unpracticed hand and leaned towards the body; Richardson took the liberty of holding the long, silver locks to avoid staining them with blood. Undertaker murmured,"It's amazing his teeth missed these...the little bastard is a little bit of a piss off, but I care for him." When he meant 'little bastard', he meant William.

"Well, is there any more of your apothecary?"

"Non...I gave my last to Eric, and besides, little amounts can't fix this. I need more hands and medicine for this. Luckily this isn't from a death scythe," he grumbled,"it's make things difficult. He should heal on his own but he'll need extra blood to help him go along." William continued to groan. "Even his pipes are alright!...I guess he tore the muscle...lucky that's good, yes?" He played with the two, separated chunks of skin on William's throat and frowned. "If I had my needle and sutures I can fix it up...perhaps playing with the Scarlet was unwise for Grell, whatever is going on to him, it must be something affecting his soul..."

He got up and faced Samantha, he strode over to her and placed a boot to the barrier. She sat there, unmoving, but was amused at the scene playing before her. By now, the amount of blood William lost would be enough to kill a human. Fortunately, his blood cells were reproducing, though it was a slow rate. Undertaker stood there, looking down at her like a vulture, as he pulled out one of the many pendants that jingled in his chain. He opened it and allowed several reels of Rips to burst forth like a horse through a bush in a steeple chase.

Samantha watched them as he growled,"Who's Rips are these?"

She scoffed. "I thought you had Alan for that."

His sickle materialized in hand, much to Ronald's concern, and held it loosely at his side.

"I've seen this barrier before, I can break it and kill you...you basically boxed yourself, you stupid bitch. I'll give you up to...three to give me the name until I open the box and pop Jack out," he smiled sadistically. She didn't waver at his threat. "Alright...three!" His scythe was brought down over her little barrier and the sound of glass shattering rebounded off the solid walls as he smirked at his handiwork. Samantha sat there, still unmoving from her spot. "You don't fear me?"

"...you broke my barrier, you sick...sick, twisted man," she whispered as the black ink on the floor smeared away into whiteness,"I'll tease you for doing so. It's someone in this room who owns the Rip. The one that bit William over on the floor there, yeah, it belongs to him. Give it to him..." Undertaker stared at her doubtfully until he pointed a finger at Grell, the Rips twisted, coiled, and uncoiled themselves as they darted towards the redhead. "Or would you fallow the words of a traitor?"

He grinned, snickering,"If there's anything you've learned, you surely know how to be the twisted one yourself...but I can always outdo anyone." He flicked his wrist and the Cinematic Rips veered away from Grell; they came dashing over Ronald's head, passing by Richardson and William, and slithering by Eric's collapsed form for their main destination. Her eyes went wide and she began to back away slowly, fighting the pain in her limbs as Undertaker pointed at her. "Let's see what happens if I give it to you...William was mad to give it to Grell since he doesn't know who it belongs to, but it gives me a bloody brilliant idea."

**"WHAT KIND OF MADMAN ARE YOU? !"** Samantha screeched, waving her hands frantically. Ronald immediately left his position to rush to her side but Grell suddenly grabbed his arm, shaking his head.

"You're right, we better stay here," Grell said while watching in disgust when the Cinematic Rips entered her open mouth and burrow deep into her throat. The sight of this triggered a far-fetched memory in his mind, while it was overwhelmingly disturbing for his standards, it was comforting to feel that he was...in the right place. The disorientation he faced hours ago was chipped away by the observation of Samantha consuming Rips. He gave a slight smile, not as big as Undertaker's, as Ronald tried to step forward.

"Grell, what's he doing?" he asked Grell, hands shook as Samantha's pitiful screams grew louder and louder. "Grell, what the hell is he doing to her? !"

Grell instantly answered,"He's driving her insane." The words surprised him, how he knew the knowledge was what he failed to remember. He saw Undertaker shuddering at the sheer amusement of Samantha's misfortune. _The damn masochist._ In the midst of the chaos from Samantha's throat, Richardson had suddenly took a hold of Undertaker, wrenching away the scythe and bringing him to a position where his hands were of no use. Undertaker squirmed at the loss of his concentration and sent the Cinematic Rips back into his pendant.

Breaths were held as cuffs materialized in Richardson's hands to shackle Undertaker's wrists together. "How boring," Undertaker whined, frowning.

"Boring? This is maddening...if she goes insane, she won't be able to do anything for us," he hissed, teeth baring,"go look at Spears and just make sure he doesn't die, alright? I'll handle her." He pushed Undertaker so that he would stumble towards William as Samantha sat there, staring into space. Richardson placed a shoulder on her and spoke gently,"Can you tell me who owned those Rips?"

There was no response. A strangled cry came from Ronald as he rushed over to her, unrestrained by Grell. He fell to his knees and had her face him. His bright eyes scanned her blank ones, it was only heartbreaking to him that she failed show any signs of recognition. As he dealt with Samantha, Grell trotted over to William and squatted by his side, seeing that the wound was terrifyingly deep, like an animal had gotten to him. Undertaker made no attempts to push him away but he reassured him,"He'll be fine, lamb. He passed out when I broke the barrier..."

Grell nodded, not looking at him out of a fear that built up inside, as he reached a hand to stroke a lock of hair out of William's calm, dormant face. He removed his glasses for safekeeping as a groan came from the far end of the room; Eric eventually found the strength to rouse himself from his slumber. His voice was hoarse and dry as he rubbed his throat, he wandered over to William and stood there quietly, saying,"We're going to go through deep shit...I can _feel_ it..."

Despite Eric's vulgar statement, Grell agreed to it nonetheless. In William's palm was his pill dispenser; he pried it from William's hand and pocketed it when Undertaker and Eric were distracted by the sound of Alan coughing and spluttering,"I...I...ahem, got Ivan and..." He trailed off at the sight of William, horrified at what he returned to. "OH GOOD _LORD_!"

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><p>AN: _Claustra_ means "Barrier". Please take note that Latin will be used once in a while. And I finished half my Finals today, tomorrow will be easy but the next will include Finals...ah...

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	16. What the Driver Has to Say

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji

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><p>"You look a wee bit pale," Undertaker smiled to Alan as he took several steps forward. It was utterly unspeakable to the scene he arrived to. Blood was splayed down Grell's once perfect dress shirt, some of the crimson liquid seeped from his mouth. Eric was standing about, though his throat looked like it would tear open at ay given second, it was surprising to see him standing to begin with. Undertaker squatted by William with hands cuffed behind his back with the ever so happy-go-lucky smirk plastered across his face. Richardson was paired with Samantha, attempting to make any connections with what seriously gotten the brunette pale was the sight of William, who's throat was ripped outwards with a large flap of skin hanging off the side; it dangled like a tongue of a dog and made his stomach churn.<p>

Seeing Grell with the blood to his lips was nothing more than a hint as to who done this to the older reaper. Though Alan saw him commit such a brutal act, Richardson's command forced him to turn away and leave without looking back. William's death scythe was at Alan's foot when he stepped forth, he took it in hand and proceeded slowly, cautious and wary of Grell. Undertaker looked up at him. "He won't bite, it's just a simple withdrawal...now...we need to get him to Ivan, alright? Eric, do that, my hands are literally tied up at the moment."

Eric nodded, Grell stood up and helped Undertaker to his feet as William was lifted off the ground. The blond grimaced at the loose skin coming into contact with his clothing, staining his shirt. Grell immediately fallowed Eric but remained a good foot or so away from William. "Be careful with him!" Grell pipped up to him. He was guilty. Horribly guilty of what he had done. But it couldn't helped. His body beckoned him to gain the Scarlet at all costs and he was easily subdued to its power, going as far as to maul William over for the precious medicine. Ronald fallowed by Grell, he carried a quiet Samantha in arms.

A part of Grell wanted to lash out at her as well after seeing how she inflicted pain to herself; how can she call Undertaker the madman when she failed to have told him the truth? She knew the consequences but was content in dancing between the line that Undertaker established. The said reaper walked behind the group with Richardson leashing his cuffs with his scythe like an owner would do to their horse. Alan stood side by side with the mortician, the two sharing a deep conversation.

Swiftly, with Eric at the head, they filed out of The Hall and into the street. Night had fallen in their world. Streetlamps illuminated the main street but stars above were brighter than ever. While half the group would have gazed high, they urged on towards a horse-drawn cart where Ivan sat at the driver, slouching over with a pipe to the mouth. The American looked at them and waited for their instructions as Grell hopped in first to help Eric load William on to the cart. Next came Samantha and Ronald, they took their seats on several crates to the side while Undertaker flopped about until Richardson picked him up and threw him to the floor. Undertaker squeaked but managed to sit up in order to give room for William to be laid at their feet.

Alan was helped up by Eric, who boarded inside between Samantha and Richardson after the Elder waved a hand at the building. The doors slammed shut as Ivan cracked the whip. "Walk up!" he demanded sharply. His horses whinnied at the extra weight but they went off to a fast start. He cracked it again and they began to perform a trot in synchronization. Into the dark night, they sped off down the main street of the district, barely making it into another where the hospital was. "You know," Ivan started over his shoulder,"when this many people were coming, I had to get home and switch to a cart. Be lucky Alan caught me sober."

"Very helpful of you, Ivan," Richardson said over the wind. The horses cried as they continued on. "So she decided to take the Rips in?"

"Her main technique to avoid giving information is self-inflicted harm. Be it her speech or her sanity. She's devoted to whoever her Master is. A bit loony, but devoted." Alan stared at her; Ronald had an arm around her waist to keep her balanced with the movements of the cart. "Knox...you should let go of her, the way things are going...Sir Richardson might file for execution when this is done."

He shook his head. "No."

"Is it love, Ronnie?" Grell swooned, though it was obvious he was trying to fight back tears. He clutched William's hand. Earlier he was throwing endless insults to him and now he feared the loss of the man. What cruel drama this has turned out to be. Perhaps it was William's own karma for suppressing Grell of his needs and wants, but what Grell had done was a but over the top to be karma itself. He tried to distract his shame by turning his direction towards Ronald, his hand still clutched his.

"...it's not that either."

"You've been playing with her the past five years, there's bound to be something," Eric snorted, but he was silenced by Undertaker, who warned,"Keep talking and you'll loose that pretty voice box of yours for sure." Eric shuffled in his place and gruffly sighed. They watched Ronald's hand wander to Samantha's stomach. "It's getting me curious why you keep defending her. If it's something you don't want William to hear, he won't."

Ronald's eyes found Grell's; the redhead stared at him curiously though if he spoke, he would have burst into tears. Grell stroked through William's hair as he gave him an apprehensive expression. The younger reaper felt defeated when even more gazed upon him wanting to hear his words. It was quiet for a while, no one spoke because they were waiting. He uttered several words as the cart clambered forth upon cobblestones on a distant path that lead outside of the district.

Alan spoke out,"What was that?"

Over the clops of hooves, Ronald repeated louder,"I said she-"

The wheels of the cart jutted over a particularly large stone, spending everyone flying in their spots while Ivan cursed aloud. Ronald fell back but was sent forward when Eric took a hold of his tie and yanked him close. An astonished cry came from Alan and Grell as Ivan snapped the reins; the cart rattled on as everyone struggled to get back into place. Richardson observed their surroundings, a disapproving frown creased his lips as he leaned back to see ahead of where they were destined to go. At a crossroad outside the town they came from; one lead to the said hospital while another lead to the gates to the Mortal Realm.

Horses were lead towards the direction where the gates were erected from aged granite.

"This doesn't go to the hospital," Eric pointed out,"the hell are we going to do in the Mortal World?"

Slowly, the cart edged to a stop. Ivan remained silent and slouched over, then he turned around and faced them head on. Undertaker tipped his head to the side in curiosity as Grell clung to William's body to drag him closer; Alan shifted in his seat but realized that the blood from William's wound had leaked unto the full expanse of the floor.

"Turn these horses around! We need to get to the hospital!" Grell cried, nearly standing up, though Eric held him down. "What are you doing? William needs medical attention!"

"As much as I hate him, I admit he needs it," Undertaker spoke with an undertone that was more stable than his usual erratic one. Ivan sat unresponsive but the sound of clicks and clatters came from his lap. Alan and Eric edged back to see a small piece of silver glint in the moonlight. It was quiet once more, this time, Ronald was able to join everyone in the pressure of getting a word out of their driver. A few more clicks and Ivan turned his waist to face them, leaving the reins tied to a bar. He brought forth a silver revolver that failed to intimidate everyone.

Richardson was passive at the situation as Ivan tilted the revolver upwards; it was a gesture pointing at the direction they came in.

"You bring that bitch there and you'll loose more reapers before Spears can say overtime. I want her out of the cart and down on the ground...she's a lame horse, you put her out of her misery, right? Seen her work before on those other countries..."

"If you seen it, why didn't you report it to anyone? !" Alan exclaimed. "We spent months on this and you finally decide to tell now? !"

"Nothing personal," he replied, shrugging,"Knox, get your hands off her. Don't want a stray bullet...it's enough I got to wash these stains out before anyone gets suspicious."

Ronald instantly resisted, glaring at Ivan with such malicious intentions, as he spat,"You're no different than anyone in this cart. No one's going to give me a reason why they want her dead and it's not fair." He felt a hand on his shoulder, he looked to see it was Grell; his expression softened. "What?"

"...you didn't tell us...why you don't want her dead. I'll agree with Undertaker, you better show some class if you're going to be a god. It doesn't matter if you're still getting rid of your human self you can't dodge it." He was quiet in his voice, he failed to even look at Ronald in the eye. He murmured incoherent words and his hand slipped away from its place to go back to William. Ivan suddenly poked the nose of the revolver on Ronald's head, prompting him to turn around.

"You do it then," Ivan fumed, though the offer was rejected,"fine...I won't do it if you give me a goddamn idea why she can't get shot."

Ronald was beginning to feel the pressure once more. He wanted to whisk Samantha into his arms and flee into the Mortal Realm, possibly run away for good and resign. He had no use for the glasses to begin with, they were only there out of policies for keeping the uniforms in unison; taking them off was a symbolization of resignation of the Society. He checked Samantha and it appeared she had fallen asleep, he shook her gently but she stayed in her currant state. "She's pregnant."

Eric folded his arms with a sigh,"I knew it...deep shit." He brought a hand to adjust his glasses while he rolled his eyes. "Just kill her. The bitch totally deserves it."

Before the younger blond had a chance to retort, Richardson's voice spoke out louder than the rest to keep order,"We can deal with this later. Ivan, it's wise to get William to a much more stable environment until his wound heals; the blood he's loosing proves that he can't produce it fast enough. Come now, Starveling can be dealt sooner with whatever issue you have..."

Ivan let out an exasperated groan with his shoulders dropping in agitation. "You all just don't get it, do you? Damn bitch is going to serve as a connection so that her Master gets reapers that are too ill to fight. Once he gets a hold of those, oh, he'll mess with their scythes until he figures out how they're used. If an enemy knows your techniques, then what's the use of using them, huh? Bet you that's what happened to Lacey...left hand got damaged too bad, he can't use it anymore and he don't know 'bout it. Damn idiot...now, I still don't care if she even gotten twins, yeah?"

As his rant continued, Grell grew more and more anxious. It was natural for him to worry about William but unnatural for him to panic at the sight of his blood. All he worried for was that he would loose him. He grasped his bow tie and undid it, he felt he was being choked by it, while reaching over to loosen William's tie. A majority of Ivan's words were drowned away as he heard voices in the distance. No, it wasn't Scarlet beckoning for him. He brought his head up and glanced about, the source of the voices were coming from Samantha, or behind her at least. They sounded less threatening that the one's from earlier, they were more comforting in his time of need; he had the urge to hop out and sneak off into the wheat field to investigate.

From where they were, the town in which the Library resided in was daily large. Despite centuries of being in full function, the vast land in which they held their London Division was under development. Throughout the town were cobblestone paths that lead to outskirts where gods, or residential reapers, lived out their endless existence by tending to little farms that supported the community. In total, there were about thirty to forty farms in total, three of which stored the steeds that higher ranked reapers used for transportation to different Divisions. Among these farms every once in while was a gate that lead to the Mortal Realm; the group was a quarter a mile away from it.

If they were to take the opposite direction, they would have continued up the cobblestone path where the hospital was. It was part of the town, yes, but back roads always served as a short cut. It would only be a two second sprint for reapers but judging the state they were in, no one was willing to sprint for it. Out of the little dream world that Grell had placed himself into, the voices began to fade away and his attention was brought back to the little scuffle between Richardson, Ronald, and Ivan regarding Samantha's fate. Undertaker had also joined the fray, his silver hair whipping about as he turned his head to face whoever he argued to.

Instantly, Grell shouted out,"Can we just get to the hospital? !"

"Didn't you hear what I just said? !" snapped Ivan. "I'm not going there...if Samantha gets off from here, I'll take you!"

"Then do that and get this over with!" Alan yelled out impulsively. "Besides, if we kill her, we get nowhere in the investigation of the other Divisions!"

"You better stop collaborating with Undertaker, boy, you'll end up like the madman!" Richardson hissed at him, but Undertaker quipped,"I raised him to be a good boy, there's nothing wrong with him besides the Thorns, alright? !"

"He's obsessed with humans, you fool! That's what's wrong! He's not supposed to have that in the first place! What kind of father are you, not raising him properly...I swear, even a demon would do better with an offspring than you!"

Undertaker was taken aback by the said statement. While he was a flimsy man, he retained the pride that all reapers had. Simply saying something, even a little thing, against it would be unwise, even for another reaper. Undertaker sneered, his features distorting but the aura he suddenly released was felt throughout the group. One didn't have to part his bangs to see what his expression was. Even Eric sidled to the side with Alan to stay away as Undertaker boasted,"At least I never gave my boy away to a complete madman! I'm a bit insane, yes, but I'm not afraid to admit it! I gave you a fair warning when you got to Claudia, did I not?"

The Elder was breathing hard, he smashed a fist into the side of the cart, shattering the wooden frame much to Ivan's depreciation. Richardson hopped out of the cart and stalked away, not looking back, towards the gates. He waved a hand and they opened instantly, he gave a loud holler at the group,"Whether you kill Starveling is not my issue no more...consider this _'hearing'_ over with as of now!"

As he disappeared, Ivan instantly pointed his revolver at Samantha. He held an evil glint to his eye as he snarled,"See, even Sir Richardson won't help her. Basically gave an order shoot, so let go of her, Knox-"

"Just get us to the hospital already!" Grell shrieked sharply. "I'll keep an eye on Samantha if she sets a foot out of line...for God's sake, I'm a rank or five higher than you'll ever be you filthy American so you better listen to what I say before I chop up your horses and sell them to the local market! Hurry it up! I'll pay you with even my share of the Scarlet if you just get us there! Please!" Ivan's tense appearance easily relaxed. "It's addicting, right? You, of all, would want it...you're American, you abuse things."

Ivan let out a loose laugh, he sent away his revolver as he calmed down,"First of all, stop being so racist...and the Scarlet would fetch a lot of money...all right then."

"It's always money...always money," murmured Ronald as Grell shuffled about to retrieve his addiction. He watched Grell toss three pills at Ivan, he inspected them for authenticity and then shook his head.

"You know how to make a deal," he chuckled,"I'll tell you one thing...money gets me even higher to place everyone in harm's way, you sure you want to send the bitch to the hospital? You'll regret it."

"W-wait!" Alan pipped up, but then Eric placed a finger to his lips as a way of saying to be quiet for now. Grell responded,"I don't care, just get Will there!"

"...sacrificing a hundred of our kind to save one person...sounds too familiar." Ivan untied the reins and snapped them; his horses groaned and walked forward before making a large u-turn so that they walked the way the came by. They were brought to a quick trot as Grell adjusted his seating so that he supported William even more in his lap. Undertaker bent over to examine the wound and frowned. _He lost so much blood._ It was evidential when Undertaker lifted a part of his robes to find it caked in blood. Slowly, his concern grew for William as he leaned back against a crate.

_Damn, now that Richie's gone, how am I going to get the cuff off?_

It would only be a half an hour's ride to get to their destination_, _though it was considered a short trip; Grell bowed his head and allowed the rough rocking motions of the cobblestones to lull him to sleep out of a sudden exhaustion that swept over him. It was probably the stress he received from the day's events. That and the influence of the Scarlet would be considered the factors. The memories of earlier events began to slip away as he rested his head on Alan's lap, his eyes closed slowly and he drifted off into a brief drowse.

While watching Grell sleep, Undertaker struggled to undo the cuffs_. _Much to his surprise, Ronald released Samantha and reached into his pocket to pull out a small key. He reached behind the mortician and picked at the locks until they undid themselves and clattered to the floor. Undertaker brought his hands to his lap and massaged his wrists. He tipped his hat to him as a thankful gesture and smiled to him,"You aren't half bad...but I say that you cut your later losses as soon as possible. I doubt that a situation like this will ever go well with the Council...or anyone on the matter. Never has...never will be."

"...I already had my losses," Ronald spat at him,"can't afford to loose another one."

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><p>AN: Hey~! Finals are over and Summer Break is here! Expect chapters to be put up, alright? Thanks for all the support! Don't worry, the last two chapters felt kind of bland to me...I promise to incorporate Will and Grell's relationship in the next chapter, all right?

**READ AND REVIEW~!**


	17. Precious Memories

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji

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><p>Grell found himself in a red velvet room. It was quiet save for the constant crackles of surrounding candles that burned upon stands behind crimson curtains. The illusion gave the room a red atmosphere that was darker than Grell's own hair. He glanced around and found himself mounted upon a pile of dolls that were poorly stitched together. His hand cautiously reached for one, it retracted to pull one that represented a certain demon with a leg holding to the white body by a single, black yarn. He smiled. It was the one he slept with every night. He tucked it to his chest and snuggled it briefly while observing his surroundings.<p>

There was no door nor window. It was almost like a cylinder. He looked up to see long bars suspended above to hold up curtains that concealed pillars behind them. Among the dolls were some representing people in his past. He spotted one that wore a red skirt and had a hat sewn to its head. _Angelina._ He reached towards it to examine his apparent handiwork. She had a frown stitched across her head, he smiled at her and tossed her away while getting up. He set one foot atop a particular doll, he lifted his foot to see that it was William. Glasses were sewn to his face and he had no mouth; it represented his unchanging expression in real life.

His amused smile was replaced with a distraught frown. Quickly, he cast away Sebastian and retrieved it. He carefully held it, his dainty fingers caressing his hair. Unlike all the dolls in the room, William was created with much more effort and detail, he looked even more realistic until Grell realized that the hair attached was actual hair. He grimaced at it but decided to hold William close to his chest. It even smelled like him. He caught a scent of his cologne lingering upon the doll.

Whenever William was in a good mood, which was rare, Grell would discover a musky, wooden scent. The man only wore one type. It reminded Grell of the fresh forest and river that he and William used to fish for relaxation when work was less heavier than today. He closed his eyes and thought of the fond memories he and the other had when they were younger near that river. The secret spot was in the Human Realm, while Grell was not as fond of humans, he grew to love romantic locations and various activities they would participate in. He thought of the first time he and William were there.

_It was a midsummer's day of 1712, the day Undertaker was forced out of commission but was unknown to the two novice reapers. Grell had decided to fallow William, curious of where the other went upon his free time. He silently fallowed amongst the trees, careful to not snap any branches or rustle any leaves. Below him, William walked with a strange object at hand along with a peculiar box that had a handle. He saw William leaving the Academy grounds with those particular items and wondered what he would do with them._

_William stopped to check on a pocket watch, he gave a satisfied 'Hn' and continued on. This silent game of stalking came to an end when the black haired reaper emerged into a clearing. Grell leaped over to the next branch and stared at the sight that beheld him. The river was calm and crystal clear, so clear that one could see the bottom. Grell leaned forth to take in the fresh, breezy scent that mixed in with the oak tree he perched himself in._

_Ahead of him floated several swans that bobbed their heads underwater to pluck fresh underwater creatures; they kept at a great distance but eventually neared towards William. Each one was graceful and carried himself with great prestige as they waded by, they too seemed curios to what William was doing when he squatted down. He placed a pole to the ground on the grass as he searched through his neatly packed box. He pulled out a tiny, silver object and a little jar that contained worms. Grell frowned at the little creatures in the jar as William took a line from a roll of lines and tied a hook to it. He tested the tightness of it to find it sturdy. He reached over to the pole and spent a while measuring his preferred length of the line, then he snapped it and tied the other end to the tip of the pole._

_The swans came closer and slowly surrounded him. Each craned their graceful necks to see him tie a metal weight next to the hook of his line while inserting a worm to the hook. There was a slight pause in his movements while Grell swiftly jumped to a lower branch that was closer. It took a minute for the redhead to realize that the swans were interesting, not in William, but of why Grell was up in a tree. They looked directly at him but he glared back at them as William leaned back with the pole and gave himself a running start towards the water's edge._

_Grell felt a slight tug and then a yank upon his blazer. He lost balance at the sudden force that pulled him down and found himself flying over William's head. He let out a scream and several limbs flinging about in the air. The older reaper stood in shock as Grell shrieked, disturbing the once beautiful peace of the river._

_As the redhead flew a great distance, William instinctively wrenched the pole back in a successful attempt to swing Grell back. Within seconds, Grell returned, this time, he was flying at William while screeching. The swans scattered about in shock and were in a white flurry before him until he redhead crash strait into the black haired man. White feathers fluttered about as the swans leaped over them to return to their sanctuary of the river. Grell's screams died down slowly as William laid back in the grass groaning in pain at the sudden weight. It was quiet between them as Grell buried his face into William's chest with hands clenching at the dress shirt for dear life as William readjusted his skewed glasses to proper order._

_"...Grell...what are you doing here?" William asked, his voice a bit exasperated. At the same time, he and Grell groaned and lifted their heads to find their lips a few centimeters away from one another. The redhead blushed furiously and immediately jumped back; landing in a perfect sitting position, he crossed his arms and scoffed. He looked the other way though a blush was evident._

_"I thought you were sneaking off to do something against the rules," he lied._

_A small chuckle came from William, Grell turned his face to see a different William. He was more calmer, hell, he looked amused! He wore a handsome smile, his bland, boring eyes were alive with glints of life, a life that he previously hid from everyone. For once, he wasn't anal about how his uniform was; he stripped himself of his blazer, vest, and tie in a casual manner. He set them down neatly in the glass while unbuttoning a couple buttons on his dress shirt for air to cool his skin. Grell sensed he had an air of another reaper he knew of that carried himself with such informality; William was acting as cool as Eric...no, more than cool, attractive._

_Grell watched in awe as William crawled over to be behind him, he felt his hands near the small of his back as they undid the hook attached to his blazer. Slowly, he got up and bent over to take his pole to hand._

_"Um...what are you doing with that stick?" Grell pointed at the pole, William dumbly looked around but then stared at the pole._

_William smiled, a content tone came to his voice,"I doubt that from where you come from, you would know about this...it's a fishing pole. It's used to catch fish."_

_Grell wanted to laugh,"So you catch fish with a stick? It looks very primitive." He turned to face the river as William leaned back and thrust his pole outwards. The hook and weight whipped through the air with a whizzing sound; the duo landed with a small plop on the surface of the water. William twitched the pole until he was satisfied with the distance, he stabbed the other end of the fishing rod to the ground and sat next to Grell. "That's all you do?"_

_He nodded. "You just wait. You'll know when the fish bites on the bait when the tip of the rod bounces."_

_"...very boring," Grell yawned and leaned back. He laid on the ground and rested himself under the oak tree he previously flew out from. "I'll admit, this is a very beautiful place." William made a grunt of agreement. "...we should hang out here once in a while...just to relax. It's quiet here, I actually like it."_

_"...well, Grell...since you're my only friend, I guess your welcomed here any time you want. Just don't tell anybody, promise me that."_

_Grell smirked inwardly to himself. "I promise you that, Will."He inhaled the scent of the river and woods that behind him and sighed contentedly._

The river had a strange, calming power to it. It even made the ever so tense William unwind in a moment's tick. He remembered that particular day and the afternoons and mornings that were filled with peaceful interactions between the two. Sometimes William would bring a fishing pole to fish or they would simply chatter to one another while skipping tones upon the glassy used to go three times a week but as the century continued on, they began to slip away from friends to coworkers to employer and employee.

At times, Grell would wonder if William ever remembered that distant river. On his own, Grell would travel there after a soul collection and simply take in the scenery. He deemed himself to be took old to skip stones but he would always pick a flower or two to keep. What the river lacked was, however, William himself. It was those days before that Grell and William were the closest gods would ever be. But only now, in these days where Grell was distanced from William, that he realized that he grew to love the other as much as he done so for the river. Regardless of whatever they fought over, Grell would always win when he received some form of attention.

With less visits to the river, conflicts raised between the two every so often as they disagreed with one another. Half of the time, as they struggled over the little things, wanted to ask if William would want to take a trip with him to the river. Before he could ask the question, however, arguments ended with a door to the face or a staple to the hand. Soon enough, Grell ceased to visit the river anymore, he felt that it given up hope of easing the tension between one another. There was also the promise of not telling the secret to anyone else, he stayed true to that until to this very day.

-...-

As Grell slowly opened his eyes to meet the reality of life,he gazed down to see William sleeping but he had stopped breathing. He was ready to enter a full panic mode until Undertaker placed a quiet hand to his shoulder, whispering,"Did you forget that we don't breathe in our sleep? Wipe off the tears you got there, it's ruining your make up." The older man used a sleeve to remove tears that seemed to have fallen during Grell's nap. "Get up, we're going to check him in."

Grell felt groggy but complied, yawning slightly as he and Undertaker carefully stood up and out of the cart while carrying William. They rushed across the white pavement while Ivan clucked to his horses, speeding off into the dead of night without payment received. Grell supported William's legs but was relieved of the burden when Eric swung by and lifted William to carry him. He gruffly said,"You of all shouldn't be touching him, Undertaker." The mortician shrugged as they passed a fountain and entered into a vast lobby that had a spartan feel.

Rows of receptionist stands were closed save for two or three. Grell searched around and then realized a part of the group was missing.

"Where's Ronnie and Samantha?"

Alan stepped by as Undertaker spoke to a late working receptionist. He answered,"Ivan took them. As long as Samantha stays away from the Hospital then we're allowed to be dropped here. Don;t worry, Knox can handle Ivan if he goes mad." The sound of a gurney rolling and feet shuffling about were heard from behind a pair of double doors. Undertaker smiled the doctor, clad in a white uniform, instructed Eric what to do. The blond complied and laid William out on to the bed; after a few minutes of examining the sleeping form, the doctor sighed and shook his head.

"I'll need to get fresh blood from somewhere, we're out of Spear's type. Ivan will probably have to ship it in. For the mean time, all I can do is sew the skin back on and sit back and wait..."

Grell's heart tore. "He lost enough blood! The cart was an inch thick of it the last I saw! Are you horrible at your job? ! I demand that you get whatever the hell his blood type is and pump it into him!" He swung a fist at the doctor, the other staggered back but caught himself on the counter. Grell attempted to come at him but was held back by Undertaker.

"There's an issue with that...his blood type is different from all the rest," Undertaker explained, Eric lifted an eyebrow in interest,"What do you mean all the rest? I thought we were the same."

"Not exactly," Alan corrected him,"our bodies require certain blood types that we had in our past. Depending how old you are as a god will be easier to locate your blood as long as you've had kids. Spears...well, he's sort of hard to get, that's why he avoids major fights as often as possible. He had only one son and he's dead now. A blood relative would help, then again...who would want to see his Cinematic Records come out to play?"

The doctor held his nose as he approached William again, he spoke,"You'll see it very soon if I don't close up that wound. If you'll excuse me." He took a hold of the gurney and walked away, Grell fallowed but Undertaker waved a finger at him before running off to catch up. Grell began to cry when they failed to let him go, he fell to his knees, clutching his chest while breaking into long, hard sobs. Alan got to one knee and helped him up to his feet, it was a sorry attempt to comfort him but it was something at the very least.

"Now, now, we can look at his Cinematic Record at the Library, it'll be easier to find whoever is alive...right, Eric?" Alan asked, throwing his head back to face Eric directly. The other nodded despite being exhausted himself. "I can't call back Ivan, so we'll have to go on foot. Can you run, Grell?"

Grell wept but spoke between sniffle,"...I...I want to...s-stay here!"

"We'll go look for ourselves then," Eric sighed, he began to leave as Alan lead Grell to a chair to sit upon,"we'll be back in an hour. Use the payphone outside if you need us, alright?" Grell continued to weep uncontrollably as the two left, both were worried of Grell's state. "...I doubt it's safe to leave him there," Eric spoke as they walked out the doors.

"...I know, but he won't move...let's just go find Spears' book."

When the pair were gone, Grell continued to cry endlessly as he brought his legs to his chest to hug himself. The fear was getting to him once more, the fear of forever loosing William. He thought that, at least once, the two would visit the river once more before a demise occurs for either but none of that was possible if William failed to survive. He wailed loudly, it was his own fault William ended up like so. Undertaker said that none of his pipes or major veins and arteries were torn apart but the fact that blood was lost faster than reproduced, which was uncommon among reapers, scared him to death. He stayed like so for quite a while, his muscles and spine strained from being too tense.

He thought back to when he attacked William. By now, the Scarlet had forced him to forget how he done so but the sheer emotion that he felt now was naught but a faint reminder of him to know exactly who caused William's state. He cried harder, his mind aching to remember what exactly happened but it felt like a distant memory. _Why can I remember those days but not this one?_

Perhaps William was right. What if he began to forget his memories? Grell was beginning to develop a new fear. He clung to as much as he could, regardless of how many there were, but he attempted to keep pieces together while squinting his eyes. Within seconds, the picturesque scene of the river faded away into nothing. He screamed.

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><p>AN: Thanks for the support, guys! I'll be posting more often now! C'mon, review~!

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	18. Precious Memories II

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji!

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><p><em>William watched the other reapers play amongst each other in the courtyard from his perch in his office. They were fresh from the farms at which they were raised upon with their families and were about to start life at the Academy. Pretty soon, he would be tutoring them under the orders of his higher ups. He held a glass of wine in his hand as he stood by the window. He took a long sip from it then he looked down once more. It took him a moment to realize someone suddenly picked up one of the smallest of children and lifted her onto his shoulders.<em>

_He adjusted his glasses and examined him closer through his spectacles. It was Eric Slingby, a man who was feared by most of his coworkers and respected by superiors. When he came on to the battle field, he was a force to be reckoned with, but whenever he approached the children, he was a big, lovable dog for a playmate. William smiled slightly, just ever so slightly. It was amusing to him that Eric would be doing such a thing at times but the Supervisor respected him for maintaining his composure. He took another sip as Alan suddenly came into view with what appeared to be a crown of flowers. William's eyebrow peaked with interest as Alan tip-toed to place the crown onto the child's head, then he kissed her cheek._

_"...that must be his sister I hear about..."_

_The healthier one of the family._

_She resembled her older brother greatly despite her hair being longer and she had more color to her skin. She was an active one but smaller than the rest. Her eyes had the characteristic of being green and she was already donning glasses like her dear brother. Despite the great age difference the two had, she and him shared a strong bond; she was born into the realm of death gods only a decade ago and was already showing promising attributes to become a reaper._

_Alan smiled at her as Eric and he began to walk out of the courtyard, each smaller reaper fallowing like little dogs. The image reminded him of a distant memory from long ago, he stared down at the wine in the glass and sighed to himself as he turned to face his paperwork once more. He placed the cup down and pulled out his chair to sit upon; his skilled hand took hold of the pen and began to tap each page he read of every document. It was only a few minutes later did he hear a knock on the door. He ignored it with a pause, then acknowledged it._

_"Enter."_

_The door opened slowly before opening all the way._

_A blond haired reaper with glasses that looked like they were a bit over sized carefully entered. He took in his surroundings as he clutched to a folder under his armpit. He wore his uniform with some casualty, it resembled Eric's sense of dressing quite vaguely. William glared at him slightly, saying,"I don't have all day." Quickly, the blond approached him, holding his folder out for William to review. He stood there as William scanned the pages fairly swiftly. "Ronald Knox...from the London Division's Training Facility, also known as the Academy. You graduated a year ago..."_

_"Yes, sir. I'm...I'm here under Officer Eric Slingby's request. He suggested for me to go to you and be part of your personal."_

_"If Slingby wanted you to come here, surely he saw something. I never heard of him taking up apprentices." He looked over his work ethnic, only to discover it was written by Eric himself. It was full to the brim of Ronald's abilities and how he would be aid to the workforce. Ronald shuffled slightly in place, his thumbs twiddled together in anticipation of what William would say. "...you know Spanish?"_

_"...yes, sir," he answered,"I spent three years at the Madrid Division, the Academy required us to learn at least one other language other than English."_

_William nodded. "I will look into this more. If Slingby ever had the chance to tell you, I'm very much backed up on my work so asking me to look over your resume is sort of...holding me. Please do leave but I will summon you once I have the chance. Take your leave." Ronald gave a slight bow and turned, he exited through the door and closed it quietly, slipping out as carefully as he done so before. Peace was restored to William's workspace, he set aside Ronald's papers and resumed to his own."...not another one."_

_It was one of Grell's violations reported once more, this time, he was found harassing a human lady of her dress appearance. The one to report this was a novice reaper by the name of Lacey. William signed it off to be listed as one of the many violations that would be reported to Grell's next meeting with the Council. He placed it on a tray to be reviewed later as he took a sip from his glass-_

Eric snorted at the book, boredom consumed him as Alan reviewed the piece of memory playing out in the book. The endless slides eventually came to a stop and materialized into words that sank back into its pages. When one reaper observed Cinematic Records play, words that formed in the books float over its pages and slowly morph into movie frames that ran fast to show images move. Sound was included if the book was held in a certain position. Among the two gods, Eric broke the silence by yawning,"You know that's only a memory from twenty years ago...we need one from God knows how long ago."

"I know, I know, just give me a minute. This thing's too huge to look through. I needed to start somewhere." He emphasized the word 'huge' by heaving the book up once more. "...ah!" He let a frustrated groan escape his lips as he lifted the book on to a nearby desk. His delicate hands flipped the pages quickly and, during the flurry of white that flashed before the two, Eric sat himself upon the very desk. He leaned against a bookcase and watched endless pages fly to the right of the book. "Why does he have to be this old?" Alan uttered to himself.

"Hey...just relax, you'll get another attack if you stress yourself," Eric warned, reaching out to him,"you've been bitching since we got here."

Alan averted his eyes and snapped them at Eric, he was leering and willing to smack him across the face; though Eric doubted that William's currant state was the cause of it. "It's just...it's just Starveling. She's responsible. Hell, I wouldn't be talking to Undertaker if it weren't for her. The old man's got me as his donkey reaching for a carrot while pulling a cart."

He continued to scan through as the other closed his eyes and rested his head against the bookshelf. "Explains a couple things...why're you doing what he tells you? You know it's against the rules..."

"Because of Heather," he sighed, he sat down next to Eric and stared longingly at the book as his temper eased down. His voice was dry from not drinking water the past few hours, it was indicated when his throat croaked with a bit of a bubble stuck inside it. He closed his eyes and leaned back to relax. Where he placed his hand was a few inches away from Eric's; the blond took notice of it and slowly inched towards them to comfort Alan, He suddenly stopped when Alan sneezed

"Your sister? I thought she lived at the Academy...she'd be safe there, top reapers go there every day for shifts in lessons. I taught there myself...how's Undertaker in-"

Alan's eyes flew open as he faced the other direction, he hissed,"Well, security wasn't enough! She went missing two years ago since I started the investigation on Starveling. I thought you knew about her disappearing." Eric sat up straighter, his back bone crackling in the process. He winced. "Judging the way you're moving, you're surprised..." Alan voice was quiet and dark, almost one in which a boy would use when he lost his dog. "How'd you not know?"

_So that bitch lied to me._ Eric was silent and unresponsive for a beat or so. He watched as Alan sighed once more. How could she have not told him? Perhaps she never knew that Heather was lost, or there was the fact that she herself worked as one of the instructors from time to time. A wave of rage washed over him when he put the pieces together. She might have slipped by to take Heather out for a private tutoring session and never returned her. He imagined what had happened in numerous scenarios but they all involved Samantha in the end.

"...I was out on a mission," he said quickly, slightly hesitant in his choice on words,"the Bonfire going wrong in Italy, me and Knox went to go fix it. It took us three months...yeah, three months. Still, you could have launched an investigation without Undertaker..."

"There's an issue with that...he found Heather's Cinematic Rips, at the same time, her Cinematic Record isn't published in the Library since she hasn't been properly recognized as a reaper yet. I guess that's one of the few modifications I'll have to report. Family comes first...even though she's been around as long as Knox, she's still something to me. If this investigation went through the Council, they would have taken longer to find Heather even if Sir Richardson was at the front." He slowly got up and returned to scanning the pages. "...and I don't have enough time seeing how the Thorns are getting to me. I want to find her alive and well before I die."

He looked directly at Eric as if he were the culprit. "Promise me you'd find her?...now that you're in this and all."

"...promise you that," he assured him firmly in a serious tone. Alan continued to scan him head to toe for a bit longer. "Trust me, I'll find her."

Oh, he will find her. _Once this is over, I'll tear Raoul to pieces. Promise you, Alan._ He watched Alan pull out a Cinematic Record and watch it tentatively. Eric craned his neck to see a finely dressed William clad in an extravagant outfit by nobles of the fourteenth century. He stood amongst a group with a wine at one hand while another rested against a spear that was standing upright, supported by his and itself. He drank from his wine goblet and was content from where he was. He looked as though he was a man of prestige, of grace and of power; that was an understatement when Eric analyzed him from Wiliam's past.

He was rather casual with the way he carried himself in the film. He was younger, more energetic, but lacked the morals he had today. Currently, he and a few others were mocking a single noble, William was laughing his hardest and turned to leave, using his spear as a walking staff.

"...Alan, what was he?"

_"He was the Baron of Wilshires from 1469-1492. Lord William T. Spears of the Noble House of Spears. He was born on December 13, 1454. __He died on June 7, 1492 of self-induced aconite poisoning.__ He was the only child of his father, Lord Isaac Nicholas Spears, and was given control over Wilshires when he was only fifteen..."_ He paused and the reel slipped away from Eric's view. Soon enough, thousands of images blurred across the pages with Alan reading off the rest of the information. "_Married a peasant by the name of Charlotte Sylvestre and had five children. However, two twins were stillborn, resulting in death of his wife in 1474. as well. Three of his sons and himself assaulted neighboring lands but assaults were learned of by the King Henry the VII of England and Spears was stripped of his title and land. He launched another attack upon the lands once more; Queen Elizabeth of York found him as a threat to the Crown and ordered the Phantomhives to assassinate Spears and his sons and to also burn down the entire land, thus removing it from the map. His sons were murdered but Spears was found in his upstairs study with a wine in hand and poison within it. Body dumped in a river nearby. Picked to become a reaper..."_

Alan took long, hard breaths. He was never one to state a whole status of a single soul though soul collecting back in those times required reapers to take longer times to state deaths. As Alan gasped for air, the Cinematic Records began to face back into the pages. Eric turned a single page to see what Alan failed to say. He read aloud the finishing piece of William's past life,".._.by Sir Undertaker of the London Division's Council._ _Body recovered and repaired, no further remarks_..."

"I...I wouldn't blame U...Undertaker for hating him for a while...he said that he was a bit of a control freak when he entered this Realm. Now he says he's better nowadays but I don't see a difference. I guess it's his composure..." His words drowned away as Eric reached over to handle the book. He gave a good, long stare at the name until Alan's voice returned to him,"Now...his eldest son had a child before he died so we can work it off from there; though he took in his mother's maiden name. Eric, go find me those books, I'll just stay here...and...read..." He trailed off as Eric slowly stood up. He stretched slightly and cracked his neck before wandering away.

Amongst the endless rows, near the end of the letter 'S' in the Library, Eric found himself where the name of Sylvestre surfaced. Towards the top began with Charlotte, his eyes scanned through the many years of history for that particular family until they settled upon the most recent entry. He couldn't believe it when he discovered a certain person that he knew so very vaguely and yet heavily relied upon. He squatted down to rub his eyes away from sleep as he reread the name at least ten times before reaching out for the spine and taking it out.

_Raoul Sylvestre, 1841-?_

He sat down on the clean floor and opened it to read the first page; it stated his birthplace, kin, and other information but the date of death was unlisted, at least not yet. He opened it to the last page of the book but discovered that words that were supposed to created within seconds had stopped. It was an odd phenomenon as he read the last event of Raoul's life until it was cutoff in mid-sentence. The black ink failed to continue as though the bring who wrote inside had been pulled away from the pages.

If this were to happen to an ordinary Cinematic Record, the soul would have been collected long ago._ How can anyone miss this?_

"Samantha, of course," he grumbled, taking the book in hand. He decided he would give the book for Alan to look over as he shuffled to his feet and brushed the back of his pants. As he approached the said ill-ridden reaper, he watched Alan's face of fascination transform into pure shock. Pages flew faster than Eric could manage (he never figured how Alan had the ability) as the brunette's mouth hung agape in a perfect 'o' shape. "Hey, Alan, what's up?"

"Spears had to repeat the Academy's training course at least thirty five times!" Alan exclaimed, and Eric dropped Raoul's Cinematic Record to see the images for himself. "He ought to belong in the Mental Hospital!"

-...-

Ronald silently screamed death threats to the driver as he brought his horses to a slow stop in the middle of an empty field. Regardless of Ivan being a legendary reaper, Ronald cared not for his status and therefore saw him lesser than a threat. Next to him, Samantha still kept to herself unmoving and yet balancing upon the crates the two sat upon. These were mad men Ronald was dealing with; a sense of justice overcame him whenever the thoughts of Undertaker's merciless mistreatment came across his mind. He glanced down at his wrist watch. What was maddening as well was that it was nearly two in the morning. He imagined how the others must feel from the lack of sleep, his eyes were heavy as well but he continued to push himself.

The reaper with the fedora turned around to face them but he climbed over the seat to stand in front of the other two. Ronald flashed him a glare that was easily ignored as Ivan sat down before the two in the pool of William's blood on the floor. The latter was smiling in a way that one would to children. His hand was out before them, palm open; a book materialized out of thin air and fell, he caught it by the spine.

"This, boy, is a Cinematic Record," Ivan gruffly explained,"and she's been doing Rips to herself. See, look..."

He opened the book for Ronald and flipped through the pages. Every now and then, pages would grow blank before being filled up by black ink until they were blank once more.

"Interesting piece here, ain't she? Lucky I didn't let Undertaker destroy her..." He turned to the last page to reveal a Death Bookmark wedged between two pages. The damn bastard stopped her life, resulting in Samatha's apparent unresponsive state. "Stop glaring at me, Knox..if I didn't put that thing in her, she'd have gone mad-"

"I don't care if you helped her or not...you're just gonna remove that Bookmark and kill her yourself, aren't you?" He asked, voice bitter. He gave a slight menacing look and was ready to snatch the book away if Ivan opened his mouth once more. "Just give me the book."

Ivan suddenly pulled out the Death Bookmark and allowed the words to scribble themselves upon the blank page. With a clatter and a thud, Samantha came to life, though she began to scream out of nowhere, startling Ronald and causing Ivan to draw his silver revolver to her head. She trashed about as Ronald attempted to restrain her movements; simultaneously, he kicked Ivan in the face, causing him to yelp and drop the book. As the chaos rose within the cart, Ivan gave a thundering roar as he covered his face while trying to retrieve Samantha's book.

Again, an Oxnard flew to his face and forced him to fall over to the side of the cart, his head slammed against the hard wood and knocked him unconscious. As Samantha's piercing screams filled the air, Ronald snitched her Cinematic Record and Ivan's revolver; he whirled around to face her, he slapped her across the face while shouting,"Snap out of it!" He sent away the revolver and Cinematic Record while hopping out of the cart. He threw hurried glances around the open field to see the town a good mile away. As Samantha's screams eventually became muffled sobs, he quickly gathered her in his arms and turned heel for the town.

-...-

Undertaker was described to be a madman as far as rumor went. The doctor's hands fretted away with his procedure upon William's throat, carefully stitching in sutures with such dexterity to beat Undertaker's own. They both shared glances at one another to see what the other was doing on their end. Inside, the doctor felt a strange aura emitting from Undertaker's soul, one that would have sent demons fleeing within a heartbeat; it was a foreboding feeling that served to show that Undertaker was agitated by something or someone.

In the midst of the silent exchange, the doctor managed to croak from his mouth."Is there something wrong?...Sir?"

"Nothing at all," he smiled pleasantly; this sent shivers up the doctor's spine,"it's just that Ivan sent us to a hospital, which is here..." The lamp above the three glared down at them, beads of sweat formed upon the doctor's brow as Undertaker turned to search for a blood pack in what was a makeshift ice container. His fingers lifted the lid up and he dumped his hand inside to search around. "...and this is not a hospital to begin with...it's a Mental Hospital."

"...that's true, but it was Humphries, Sir...he sent for me to come here since this is the closest clinic I have to The Hall," he answered nervously. The atmosphere's intensity loosened as Undertaker relaxed himself. "We can transfer him to the Infirmary at the Library if you wish for him to be in a much more stable environment." The proposal was responded with a small sigh escaping Undertaker's chapped lips. "But that can only be done at daylight. Rules are that I'm not even supposed to be operating at this hour-"

Undertaker's lips twitched in anger at the mention of rules. Instantly, his content demeanor switched back to that of a dangerous one. His hand shot out from the icebox and instantly went forth to grab the doctor by the throat. The reaper, scared to death itself, trembled in place as he clutched his needle and medical scissors. He squirmed out, whimpering,"L-let!...p-pl!...U-Under!...S-sir!"

"I'm not risking William to stay here...when this is done, I order you to escort us out of here and for the Library. Understood? The Council will know why so you can keep your job if that's what you're afraid about!" The doctor nodded hastily, shaking from the mere shock of being touched and threatened by the older man. "He's done with the operation so you better bandage his neck up, no dilly dalling thank you! To Hell with the rules, it'll be what gives you your end if you just fallow them without a reason for doing so! Honestly, reapers these days."

He released the doctor and turned his attention back to the icebox. To the doctor's utter horror, Undertaker was smiling even more broadly than before as he scavenged through the ice. Undertaker spoke in a calm, even tone,"If you don't mind me asking, why are you low on William's stock of blood?"

"Simple...his descendant Raoul Sylvestre has disappeared..."

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><p>AN: No reviews? Awww, c'mon people! I love you but do you love me back? Ha ha, enjoy! Also, Sylvestre is the French form of Silvester, which means "woodland" or "wild". Another note, Wilshires is pronounced as "will-shers"

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	19. Sober

Disclaimer: I don't own Kuroshitsuji

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><p>A blood pack was clenched between Undertaker's fingers, it threatened to pop under pressure and long nails. He fingered the plastic in a threatening gesture as the doctor began to clean William's neck area; the said reaper was peacefully sleeping, unaware of the conversation above his chest. Wary of Undertaker's reaction, the doctor prepared for the worst but nearly gained cardiac arrest when Undertaker responded,"Disappeared? I hope dead...this Realm would do better without William. Reapers like Eric Slingby should be around...the little bastard here is too uptight for his own good. Hmph...he speaks of me as I'm a god, which I am, and yet he backhands my face every chance he gets...heh."<p>

"He does have that affect on people," the doctor uttered,"but backhands? I think it's his way of maintaining order."

"This Society is not about order anymore, have you been reading the newspapers? I could care less if this world falls to pieces..." He suddenly popped the pack, blood spluttered unto the floor and upon William's already bloodstained shirt. The doctor shirked away. "Keep working! We can get a new shirt! Or...I can drive him mad..." He snickered as the doctor scrambled to clean up the mess while wrapping a large, cloth bandage on William's neck. With Undertaker, the mortician reached into his robes and pulled out a rusted scalpel, he brought it to William's dress shirt and sliced several strings that held buttons. Undertaker smiled and pocketed his tool and stepped away, wiping a hand on the bed sheet. "Now that you're done, let's get him to the Infirmary, shall we? Go fetch Grell, yes?"

The doctor nodded and scurried away, horrified at the legendary reaper's next action. Doors flew open and swung shut as Undertaker's eyes attended to William's body to gaze upon. His smile turned into a wide grin when he ran a long nail down Williams soft jaw, caressing it in a way a lover would. His finger went to his mouth and forced it open as the other hand went to his chest. With a lot of force, he pressed against William and heard his throat gurgle slightly; a little more was added until he saw a small lump surface from under muscle and wriggle its way up William's pipes.

Small and fragile, the silver piece fluttered about to and fro until it danced towards the ceiling. It was no challenge when Undertaker reached up and pinched the Cinematic Rip by the nail. He brought it to his face and examined it closely. "Just as I thought...Richie was right about it traveling through blood after all..." Unlike before, Undertaker held it between his nails instead of stowing it away in one of his pendants. He closed William's mouth and frowned. "Would've eaten you up like a parasite...makes me wonder why I did that to you when there are others that suffer the same..."

He shrugged to himself. "...maybe I shouldn't make you a nice coffin...throwing you in a mass grave is what you want, right? You try to be the same to Society, I picked you because I found you reckless, now you're just a man with a spear up his ass..." He was quiet for a good few seconds until he broke into laughter at his own joke. His voice crackled until a scream resounded from the waiting room where Grell had supposedly been left at. Undertaker frowned, his brow furrowed at mild concern. He pointed a finger to William. "Lay down, stay...you damn dog..."

In a flurry of black and silver, he stalked out of the room with a little bounce to his steps.

-...-

Grell was met by a rubber hand upon his neck, he screeched and flew out of his chair; his death scythe materialized in hand and roared to life, thirsty of the flesh upon which had contact to him. His eyes met the doctor that had blood staining his front, it did not help him at all in his sudden hysteria. _Did he kill Will? !_ He nearly skidded on the floor as he prepared to launch himself at the doctor, his chainsaw's blades rotated faster to symbolize his blind rage when he took a step forward. Teeth baring like a rapid beast, eyes glowing with such hatred, and voice ringing of absolute madness, Grell swung out his weapon upon the terrified doctor, who, in turn, backed away.

"N-no, no, wait! Spears is i-i-in good c-condition!"

"LIAR! I'LL BUTCHER YOU!" Grell cried at the top of his lungs.

The poor man was only millimeters away from being cleaved and was too awestruck to summon his own weapon. His foot stepped upon his robe and he fell back, landing on his backside, he begged nonsense to the redhead. Infuriated by this, Grell advanced upon him even faster until he cleaved the spiked blades down unto the doctor, who screamed to high Heaven. He hacked the man in half vertically, the blades managed to cut through his spine; sparks flew out of the newly formed incision when metal met the concrete floor. The color red plashed along the walls and Grell himself as he howled louder than his death scythe's engine.

"I'LL BUTCHER YOU~!"

And he wretched the death scythe upwards and brought it down once more, he tore through the doctor's bloodied face. With a skull cracked open and skin agape, part of his brain slurred out like liquid from being whirled about in the head. Grell stepped on him, his cries turning into broken sobs,"I'll...I'll butcher...I'll butcher you!" There was no pause but he was beginning to falter, his legs grew weak as he swung his scythe downwards, ready to cut the mutilated body horizontally.

Just as he was about to finish his final act, Grell felt a pair of arms wrap behind his elbows, lifting him above the dead doctor. Instantly, Grell screamed as he kicked about, his death scythe flailed in his arms as he tried to swing it back. Much to his shock it had flown out of hand and seemingly disappeared. The all too familiar chuckle came to his ears, replacing the monstrosity of the chainsaw, as Grell continued to struggle.

"Such a nice mess you've made, I praise you but I doubt Richie would ever..." Grell let out a squeal until Undertaker released one arm but clutched the other tightly, allowing Grell to stand up on his own. The two stood in a puddle of blood and other body fluids; heels and boots squished the revealing organs that were spewed along the floor. Grell's frantic breaths had eventually calmed as Undertaker spoke,"You just murdered the good man...he's too disoriented to tell me what made you do this..."

"He killed Will," Grell answered numbly, getting to his knees,"I saw him, he's covered in blood-"

"That's what got you ticked? !" Undertaker roared with laughter as he forced Grell up. "The damn bastard is alright, stitched up and all...I even got a Cinematic Rip out of him, it was stopping his reproduction of blood cells. Which reminds me, how many times have you taken the Scarlet?" Grell stared at him, then back at the body, then at his hands, then at his chest, then finally at Undertaker once more; he had confusion and shock in his eyes as though Undertaker spoke another language. "Oh, who am I kidding? You won't remember! Open up your mouth, pretty lamb..."

Grell continued to stare, even an order was blank to him. His mind was not computing the words spoken to him, his eyes was trained on the voices he heard from wherever they had taken William. Absentmindedly, Grell brushed away the now curious Undertaker.

"Grell, something the matter? Grell?" He approached but was wary; Grell might snap back to reality and begin his butchery if Undertaker contacted him. He guessed it was how the doctor on the floor met his end. Touching an unstable reaper was unwise, especially being under the affect of the Scarlet drug. "Hm, you're just suffering a hallucination...come now, let's go get William-"

Grell ignored him once more. He had had this feeling before, one in which alerted him of a conscious presence in the area; it was never a pleasant one, more of a demonic one. To add to his sinking feeling, voices came out of nowhere, he had a hand to his forehead to rub away an impending migraine. When Undertaker sensed Grell was less of a threat, he took Grell's higher wrist and pulled gently, speaking softly,"Grell, let's get out of here...you can blame me for this mess when the Council takes this to matter."

"No," Grell said firmly, planting his feet to the ground,"no."

"I left William unguarded, it's unsafe for him of all reapers to be here!" Undertaker was growing impatient, he forcefully wretched Grell from his spot and dragged him. The latter began to fought back but never summoned his death scythe; it was like trying to give a cat a bath when Undertaker felt Grell's nails dig into his wrist. "Damn it, Grell! Move!" He slapped him across the face, Grell rebounded with a shout of pain.

"I'm not going there! You can't make me!"

He tried to kick around, Undertaker paused. His attention was growing upon Grell's, not so annoying anymore, but strange actions now.

"Anything but that!" Grell yelled automatically, words slipping out of tongue. It took him a few seconds for Grell to confirm that the Scarlet wasn't the one beckoning fair warnings of the presence that emitted from the direction Undertaker dragged him to. It was begging to become all too familiar again; his memory decided now to resurface. His face became blank as it was moments ago as he stood in place. Pupils dilated as he stared down at the floor, his eyes wandered from the bloody footsteps that Undertaker left before him to the door that lead to the operating room.

_He remembered being dragged in a similar way through a air of doors that were unwelcoming, both of which seemed malicious. He glared at the hand that held his wrist as he tried to remain defiant, even stomping upon his capture's foot. He began to squirm but ceased his movements when he heard screams upon the other side.  
><em>

A hand flew to his face to snap him back to reality.

Undertaker slowly released him now. _No use in trying to move a mule._ His patience was drawing thinner once more, he waited for Grell's hallucination to stop but apparently, it didn't when Grell spoke in a quiet tone,"He's in there-" But Undertaker grabbed a hold of him and dragged him; he slammed open the door and navigated him through several hallways until they arrived at the room where the operation was conducted. "Undertaker, can you hurry up and finish what you were doing?"

"...says the one who's trying to stay back," Undertaker snorted, peeved by Grell's undiscerning choices,"stay there." He opened the doors and peeked in to see William still in his gurney, undisturbed in slumber. Undertaker sighed in relief and stepped in completely, his body was tense but he had to hurry. He was in a madhouse, security was high in the outside and inside of the perimeter but whatever happened within was another untold story. Even Undertaker had learned to fear this place over the years, it was probably the only chaotic space in the entire Reaper Realm; other Divisions had decided to send their own insane workers here if they were driven far too deep with insanity. Sure he was mad himself but he would never be classified as one of the worse.

He approached William, hands dug under his back slowly to scoop him up. The reaper, he figured, was average in weight and was relatively easy to carry. When was the last time he carried William like this? A few centuries or so before? It wouldn't matter anymore now that his concern for William was gone and now free to focus on Grell's well being. Much to his relief again, Grell was outside, leaning against the wall, but had his back facing Undertaker.

"Alright, I got the little bastard, now let's go. Look, he's alive...lookie here Grell." He neared Grell, only to have the redhead spin around out of instinct. "He's alive, not breathing, but alive..."

"What you just said contradicts itself," Grell murmured, tipping to see William more properly. He looked down at him, his head cocked to the side as he peered past Undertaker's shoulder. He saw a tint of silver go by in the darkened hallway but his attention was taken back to Undertaker, who gave him a light bump on the shoulder with his own as he walked pass. Undertaker was a few feet ahead.

"We should leave, Grell..." His long strides were accentuated with the soft thumps of his boots. Grell caught up to him easily as they journeyed through the entrance of the hospital, he found that the body of the doctor had vanished, his heart pounded in his throat. "Pay no mind to the good doctor...he will pay tea time with his children and wife, should he see them ever again that is."

The trio traversed along the quiet streets, Grell wandered close to Undertaker, not wishing to part from William. He had his head low, his front was covered with the blood and flesh of the doctor he slayed out of false accusations. That was the least of his concern when the said body that contained the fluids were missing. He fallowed Undertaker head low in shame for what he done. He saw the top hat atop Undertaker's head topple off from a gust of wind that blew by.

"Oh my, my hat!"

Grell reached out after it as it flew off to the west, opposite of the direction of the Library, his fingers brushed the ever so soft fabric of the brim but allowed it to escape for the next mile. The two gave chase as fluttered off to a large field while winds continued to blow it. As Undertaker hopped along, perfectly balancing William in his arms, Grell scampered after the hat that toyed with him under the moonshine that gave them light. Eventually, the hat was caught in a spiral of gusts that sent it strait up, then the winds stopped. The had came falling upon a lone wagon in the field, horses that were hitched to it, but Grell ignored the ominous sight as he reached over the edge of the wagon for the hat that landed on the driver's seat.

"Um, I got it," Grell said, picking and waving it about at a frowning Undertaker. He gave him a slight smile but then looked down, only to drop the hat to the ground at the sight of Ivan laid out in the pile of William's already drying blood. His eyes went wide as Undertaker approached, he began to feel sick and, for the first time in quite a while, he threw his head to the side and vomited whatever bile he had in his stomach. When he relieved himself of his worse, his mind spun as it reeled about to remember where he had seen such a gruesome sight before.

_Grell found himself staring at the bloodied corpse that was carelessly dropped into the wagon with countless others underneath. Either distorted in features or body, Grell was forced to witness this under that man's supervision. He stared up and waited for another corpse to fall out of the window high above him. He saw the man's face pop out, his tap hat fell over Grell and landed on top of his face. The redhead growled and tossed the hat away out of anger._

_"Oh my, my hat!" He exclaimed from his high tower.  
><em>

_The sea breeze picked up and the hat blew off into the distance, the man barked,"Go get it!" Grell glared up at him, only to have shards of glass cascade towards him, he scurried off to give chase to the hat as another body came falling out of the window, this time, landing on top of Grell since it was intentionally thrown at him. Bones popped and the redhead howled before collapsing to the ground, unmoving.  
><em>

Undertaker grimaced at Grell as the latter shook uncontrollably in his place. His eyebrow quirked up as he looked in to the wagon. His reaction contrasted that of Grell's at the scene with a smile; Ivan's head was against the edge, his jaw broken and hung loose, his face was bloodied and a black eye had produced to his right, perhaps it was the blood that gave it more of a flare of an affect to him that made Grell utterly disgusted. The mortician sighed and placed William onto a row of crates while pushing Ivan down to the floor. A sickening thunk was heard as he boarded the front, he looked down at Grell as the other was frozen in place.

"Not again, Grell...do you want William to die? His stitches might get torn but what do I care?"

_"...but what do I care?" The man growled to Grell._

The said reaper was silent, Undertaker rolled his eyes and lifted him up by the collar of his shirt. He plopped him on his side and took a hold of the reins. He snapped them and the horses brayed out of frustration from the lack of rest they would ever get. He snapped them once more and the wagon groaned as the beasts slowly walked forward under Undertaker's command. Grell was stiff as they went around to make a way back into town. His hand left one rein to gently coax Grell into laying against him.

Slowly, Grell lowered his head to Undertaker's shoulder with a bit of hesitation. "Why were you...in such a hurry to get out of there?" Grell asked dryly, eyes closing as he tried to calm his mind.

"Well, first off, I'm more concerned for William's safety...not that I would give a damn about but there are certain reapers that want him dead in that hospital. I'm surely not going to give you names but never enter that place again, at least, not without me. How are your hallucinations? I thought someone like you would be able to stomach Ivan's state..."

Grell gave a growl,"It's not hallucinations, what I've seen is legitimate..."

"Oh, by the way...while having these legitimate hallucinations, open your mouth, it'll be until day break we reach the Infirmary." Grell opened his mouth to protest as Undertaker opened up one pendant on his chain. As chaos was unleashed around the moving wagon, Undertaker brought a nail to Grell's mouth and the last thing the redhead saw was nothing but black and white flashing before his eyes. "Apologies, but while being sober from the Scarlet, it's the only way to get these things inside you..."

-...-

Ronald watched the the rays of the sun stream down upon his bed when he was awoken by a whimper in the background. His head rested upon his shoulder, his back was bent over from where he sat, and his eyes adjusted to the intense light to see his bed occupied. The sound of the shower running filled the room, he glanced about while fixing his tilted glasses on his face. He saw several bloody bandages on the foot of his bed to the left, among them were two metal bars and a wooden plank.

He slowly brought himself to life, his back cracking as he sat up strait. He stretched and rubbed the back of his neck as he leaned over to place a gentle hand on Samantha's side.

"Samantha?...you alright?"

There was no response. She probably couldn't hear him in her sleep, it was understandable. He sighed and walked over several piles of clothes that were scattered across his bedroom floor; he was never one for organization or upkeep of his apartment. Several ties hung about on the dresser, dress shirts and pants were thrown at various parts, vests and blazers were at the corners of the bed. He himself wore only an unbuttoned dress shirt and some pants, his socks were off since he accustomed himself in his own home. He grabbed a bristled brush and ran it through his thick hair to part bangs in preferred directions. When he was done with his makeshift styling, he began to strip himself while finding fresh clothes in his closet nearby.

_Damn, I need to get this washed later._ He discarded his dirty ones and gathered his uniform together. By the time he dressed himself, he was locking for a pair of new socks when Samantha roused from slumber slowly. He looked up at her from where he was squatted and saw her sit up. He got up to be at her side, the bed dipped under weight and she looked directly at him.

"...well, how's your legs?"

She lifted the sheets to look at them, then she began to panic. "W-where are the braces? !"

"I had to take them off because they weren't put on properly, they were staring to fall off. Don't worry, I placed bandages around your stomach for your ribs, Undertaker was too lazy about taking care of that, eh?...you'll be fine. Lay back down." He gently eased back into a laying position, she winced at the contact as he completely removed his sheets from the bed. He glanced around and muttered curses to himself. "I'll be back, hold on..."

"...it's not like I'll go anywhere," she scoffed as she rested her head against the pillow. He was gone from sight when he got up and walked out of the room. After a few minutes, he came back with a new role, he sat down on the bed and took the wooden plank to place it under her broken calf. He began to wrap it, pausing every once in a while to let Samantha gasp and fight the pain. She stared up at the ceiling as he finished putting the plank in place while going to the other side of the bed with two metal rods.

"I'll be fast on this, all right?"

She nodded and took a handful of the pillow she laid upon. Silence filled the room as he treated her with such kindness that she began to cry.

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><p>AN: Thank you all for support! I feel like I'm veering out of the story/style but fear not, this is part of the complexity! It'll be simple in the next chapter! So no fretting! Also, I got a really neat friend who's working on each of your favorite grim reaper's pasts; it's really interesting and she deserves some sort of attention! I mean, it's by far pretty interesting and is the equivalent of chocolate melting in your mouth. It's called:

Let the Cinematic Records Show by Rubber Duck Investagation, she's a DEATHLY efficient author (pun intended) and deserves much more attention. Now the title of that fic is sort of a hint of what is to come in His Scarlet Effect's next chapter! Either way, please enjoy this story and that and I will update within a few days or so. Stressing myself about Finals lowered my immune system, resulting in a cold. Worry not, the new chapter shall be created!

**_READ & REVIEW!_**


	20. Their Scarlet Effect

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji

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><p>Alan snored lightly atop the desk, Eric was gone but was kind enough to take a brief trip to town to quickly fetch him a cup of coffee. Behind him, a certain top hatted, silver haired reaper stood by, a single nail came to his neck to tickle the skin. Alan twitched and shuffled in his seat, turning his head revealed a stream of saliva trailing from his lips to the floor.<p>

"Just like when you were a baby," Undertaker murmured, grin forming. He brought a sleeve to wipe Alan's mouth, then he bent down to pick up the brunette; he sat in the once occupied chair and cradled him, he was smiling ever so wider. He stared down at the sleeping form, fond thoughts came unto Undertaker's mind as he thought of the many times Alan would scurry to him in his shop as a child whenever a storm occurred; the little child demanded to be picked up immediately for comfort. He wondered if he ever does the same with Eric on stormy nights.

Undertaker continued to hold Alan as the said reaper awoken with a heavy yawn. The brunette cuddled closer into Undertaker's shoulder until his eyes flew wide open at the realization of being held. "...I'm not a child..."

"Oh, yes you are, boy," Undertaker responded warmly as Alan slid out of the position to be on his feet. The older reaper helped him up and stared up at him. "You still are to me." He began to chide him. "You shouldn't be sleeping out in public, it's not professional and it ruins your posture. Honestly, being out like a passed out drunk, what will your mother think?"

Alan rolled his eyes, laughing under his breath, he removed his glasses to wipe the sand away that formed at the corners of his passive eyes. He placed them to his face as he reached over for his cup of coffee, he blew on it before placing the brim to his lips and tipping the bottom up. As Eric would have wonders for Alan, Alan himself also had wonders for Eric, such as being how the hell the blond knew of his favorite flavor. About four cubes of sugar for his sweet tooth, half a pint of milk and creamer to go down smoothly in throat, and then a dash of mint to add a refreshing after taste.

Asking of Spears' whereabouts was the first question Alan popped to the older man, who suddenly had a spark of rage tinted in his eyes until it disappeared when he spoke,"He's brought to the Infirmary, searching for Sylvestre is worthless since his blood is back to reproducing itself at a normal rate. He should come to by lunch. Oh, I discovered a Rip in his chest, I got it out since it was stopping blood cells from producing properly...amazingly, it came to him when Grell bit him under the withdrawals of the Scarlet. How did that happen? I'll tell you, the Scarlet is a wonder drug, yes?"

Alan nodded and sipped more of his beverage, he leaned against the desk to listen further in the lesson. It's been a while since he's had a good lecture from the silver haired man. "It heals at a fast pace, it's even powerful enough to heal our terrible eyesight, that would explain Sutcliff not using glasses. Also, it's known for temporarily repressing memories of any particular injury that was dealt with on the body."

"Do you know why? Because it is created from death scythes crushed into fine powder. Our weapons are mysterious things, not until a chemist by the name of Jacques de Scarlet from the Paris Division found that out after having his scythe crushed in a mill by accident. He tried to reshape his death scythe but failed to do so, he gotten an idea and placed it into a bottle of wine to give to a demon as a truce. When the demon drank from the bottle, his insides crushed in until he died. That technique was heard through other Divisions, it was the Madrid Division with their Mecca Division alchemists that developed the Scarlet. It boosted in popularity and shipped off to several Divisions, but side-effects included memory loss; not a very helping thing if you're fighting demons on the battle field. Sure, your wounds heal but loss of memory will make you forget what you were doing. It becomes addicting when one finds a way to escape the pain...(it's well that you don't take it)...

"Grell has been exposed to massive doses of the Scarlet for quite a long time so when I checked his Cinematic Records, a good three fourths of the pages were blank! I'm just waiting for the Cinematic Rips to entwine with his soul. Cinematic Rips that occur when under the drug is known as the Scarlet Effect, Grell has obviously been experiencing repressed memories and hallucinations, and that's because his soul was trying to recollect memories, but what is a memory without emotions? Now, when you, Alan, create a Cinematic Rip, you use your death scythe-"

"I get it, so that the death scythe in the Scarlet basically rips away emotions and memory, so that when a Rip appears, it's the skeleton of emotion that contained the memory...so pain is not there to remind the reaper what happened. Emotions and memory are connected real well...that's why they're important. Let me guess, the Cinematic Rip that you found two nights ago are Grell's?"

Undertaker smiled in approval. "Else I shouldn't be here in the Library to check his Cinematic Record." He sat in the chair comfortably, hands folded unto his lap. "Would you like to know the big kicker?"

"And what's that?" He took easy sips from his cup.

He grinned madly. "William T. Spears has been under the Scarlet Effect the past three hundred years."

Then Alan spat out the contents, he coughed and gagged on the drink and rubbed his throat. The cup was held loose as Undertaker reached up to give heavy pats on the back. After a few minutes of his choking spree, he spluttered,"W-what? H-he...h-h-he'd g-gone m-mad!" He coughed.

"But he's _been_ mad! Had to repeat the Academy thirty five times until the little bastard was sane enough to think through~!" Undertaker laughed loudly as Alan began to back away from him. "When I got found out, Richardson forced me out of the Council in 1712 but I could care less, at least one of their reapers wouldn't go on rampages any more! It took a long time until they realized what I was doing to William, so long as I kept the Rips to myself, the Council can't do a damn thing to repair his soul! Now that he's sober from the Scarlet, he still acts like the Baron he was, just not as barbaric. He can be considered one that functions properly, you can see it in his eyes that he maintains control over situations."

Alan brought two fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose to sort out the information the mortician had laid out for him to asses. He tried to think back to what he and Eric witnessed last night. And so far, they discovered that William was much more than a control freak, he was a madman that could best Jack the Ripper. They watched William sneak into weddings and slaughter anyone he saw, he even locked the doors to keep anyone from escaping. They saw him enter houses where gathering were held and slaughter anyone on sight. He even went to a nursery at one point, the screams of the infants screaming echoed in Alan's mind. Sure, he had issues with rage, but the chosen targets was just too cruel, not even Grell would reaper a child for the life of himself.

And then it clicked with a jolt as he cleaned his mouth.

"Undertaker," Alan started softly, his throat stinging. The mortician smiled up at him, bits of giggles escaping his lips as he perked up in interest. "If he's been under the Scarlet Effect why was Eric and I able to see his past history? Wouldn't his Rips remove the memories from the book?"

"Ah, that? William has an acute Memory Recall...he has been able to keep his memories but the Scarlet removes the emotions; it's a result of me giving the Scarlet to him in manageable doses. Grell, however, goes full out without keeping track of the amount he takes in, this results in his memories being repressed. He hadn't forgotten them they're just not surfacing since emotions aren't there to Recall them." Undertaker gave a slight frown at the inquiry. "And you watched his mayhem? I swear, he was worse than me...all the women he taken in, all the humans he assaulted, oh, but you never seen him before with a demon...rules of the London Division say to remain passive towards those creatures, not everyone can do that, not even Richardson..." He fiddled with his pendants thoughtfully. "William thought it noble to do justice as he was taught at the Academy, justice for souls but he never gotten the message quite yet...the fool...the arrogant fool..."

His hand went to the side and caught a leather bound book that fell out of the sky, or more of the top shelf above their heads. It landed with a heavy thud in his palm, he smiled.

"Ah, Grell seems to be ready to tell us what happened. Come, come closer, dearest lamb," he beckoned Alan gently; the brunette scooted to the side as the book opened. Undertaker turned to the latest page. "_Grell Sutcliff awakens in the Infirmary next to Ivan, the trashy American_...such a boring passage." He turned back as new pages began to fill the book. "Ah, _Grell slaughters Doctor Giovanni of the Vatican Division_, not good for the Council, I can change that up...what's more of him?"

"I feel like we're invading his privacy," Alan grimaced at the perverse thoughts Grell would have of a certain demon.

"That's funny because demons think us reapers do that all the time. And...hm?"

After a few dozen pages, Undertaker found the last few thousand of them to be suddenly empty. He flipped through them with a frown, his teeth bared in frustration until he found a page that had a single word of blackness. He reached for the top left corner and pulled several pages back, allowing a strip of the Cinematic Record play before him and Alan.

_It was a simple mission. A single soul on the To Die List was an easy and fair task for Grell, so easy, he took the List from William's desk without a moment's hesitation. Just one soul this time, at least it's work _I'll get done fast_, he thought when he flew over the rooftops like a gazelle. It was a rare opportunity for a reaper to reap only one soul for a full 24 hours, normally it would be twenty or more at the maximum. Being at Grell's rank, the numbers were higher. And being at Grell's demoted rank, the quantity sky-rocketed to his displeasure._

_It was the dead of night, he spotted a faint glow in the distance and raced towards it; the Cinematic Record was left alone, long enough for the Record to float languidly to the sky. He approached it and landed onto the concrete sidewalk that acted as a doorstep to an alley. He came by an open window where the Record was floating through, the victim was in a building. The reaper hoisted himself on to the windowsill and gracefully slid in with on the sound of his cloak brushing against the wooden pane._

_He gained a sinking feeling, both mentally and physically. A soft, gentle giggle came to his ears and he felt hands, more delicate than his own, lace fingers with his. It felt as though he was standing over water while he watched the Cinematic Record in the room glow more faint and then vanish ever so slowly. Was it a demon? No, it can't be, the presence of a demon's soul was nowhere near him. His scythe appeared at hand and he lashed out at the person holding his own hand._

_He remembered screaming, wrenching his hand but not releasing the one holding it, but it wasn't the motion that made him scream; it was the fact that his fingers were entwined with a dismembered hand that seemed to clutch his. He began to hyperventilate, the sinking feeling becoming more and more prominent as he searched desperately for the one pulling such a horrid prank._

_He remembered that his world turned into nothing but blackness._

When Grell's memory went black, so did the Cinematic Reel as it scrunched up into a roll and faded away into the eggshell colored paper of the book. Undertaker was in shock at the scene that unfolded before him, in comparison, Alan held the same exact expression. It was mind bending to them both as they stared at one another, exchanged worried looks, and then took off from where they sat. Despite having woken up with a cramped leg, Alan sprinted to keep up by the bolting Undertaker who held the book tucked under his armpit.

It was clear, they had seen this action before. For Alan, it was from watching other Cinematic Records of the deceased reapers from the fallen Divisions; for Undertaker (while never exactly witnessing an attack as morbid as this), it was from being at the exact place where Grell was assaulted twice. Quickly, they tore down the hallway in a race that was fueled on by questions. Now, if the two ever had the chance to open Grell's Cinematic Record once more, they would have found the last five words:

_He witnessed Ivan's incalculable murder.  
><em>

-...-

Grell swallowed a mouthful of water he gained from a glass cup. He faced the wall in deep thought when he sat up; he was slouched over, uncaring for his posture. His eye twitched, he wanted to kill Undertaker for doing _that_ to him earlier. He clearly remembered feeling a Cinematic Rip spear for his mouth and eventually force its way down his throat until it reached for his soul, he felt the two fight within his chest until they embraced one another. He felt as though Undertaker violated him in some sort of way. _Some sort of violation he done me, the madman._

And then now he was staring blankly at the wall as though it were the most interesting thing in the damn Realm to watch.

Thoughts processed through his mind, his mind abandoned Undertaker as an entire month's worth of his life came slamming strait into his face like a locomotive. He gagged, his body instantly rejected the pills that he had just swallowed, he began to hark them out, falling to his side on the bed, as he pounded a fist to his chest. Now he choked on them. _No, not this time._ He flexed his throat muscles and pushed until he spat the Scarlet out. It took skill to do that, and without practice he wouldn't have known to do so; without his recollection of how to do so, he wouldn't have had the thought of regurgitating in the first place.

Three little, red pills came flying at the wall, each skittering on the ground when they fell. He panted, anger blazing through him once more. He wasn't weak anymore, he felt that he didn't need them, no, he _knew_ that he didn't need them. In fact, he knew he wasn't _supposed_ to have them! He coughed and slowly brought himself to his back to lay upon. Now there was a new interest to him, not the ceiling, but his position of being sprawled out on the bed. It felt unnatural but sort of familiar.

_He remembered that day._

His hands absentmindedly lifted up from the sheets, the cold leather straps he still felt to his wrists. He stayed completely still, hands falling back to place. His eyes. All he saw was the crystal clear view of the ceiling, his vision was average to that of a human's, they were dull and lacked the spark of divine power that all reapers had in their own eyes. They picked up the bright morning rays of light that poured copiously from the many windows of the infamous Infirmary.

He looked to his left, there, he saw a pair of emerald, green eyes, both fatigued and weak, stare back at him.

His stomach lurched, not out of ill, but of excitement. His heart thundered rapidly at the sight before him. He threw himself to his left and rolled to a sitting position with hands immediately snapping behind to help him off the bed. He lunged forward, landing on Ivan's chest, crying out in joy, joy of being relieved that William's demise hadn't come for him.

"William! There's so much I got to tell you!...my, and since when did you get heavy? !"

The groggy Ivan became enraged as Grell, unknowing of William being a bed over away, throttled him about by lifting him up and over the edge of the bed. Ivan growled as he was shaken like a rattle, his head pounded achingly as a hand seized Grells throat to choke him; the American placed just enough pressure to make Grell's voice box to compress and make gurgling noises. Grell stopped his movements but held fast to Ivan's chest and shoulder as the latter began to shake him in return, wringing his feeble neck like a soaked beach towel with a single hand.

"I swear, Spears out to keep a leash on his dogs!" His free hand was in a ball of fist ready to be swung at Grell's, quickly turning, purple face. Grell released Ivan and realized his misconception of identity of the man that was assaulting him so early in the morning. Just as the fist was only a foot away, Grell squeezed shut his eyes.

_Not the face!_

His euphoria was gone with the wind, fear corrupted his mind but those gushing feelings that his heart and mind struggled to keep up all went to a dead stop when he heard a gloved hand grab a hold of the wrist, giving Ivan a jerking motion. Ivan grunted as Grell slowly creaked open one eye, he gave a sigh of relief when he saw the comforting habit of William standing besides Ivan, one hand occupied in protecting the redhead while the other adjusting a pair of black rimmed glasses.

"Without any respect, Sir, I don't care if you hunt angels for sport or represent America, show some profession when you are kept in the London Division as a guest, lest you be treated like Undertaker. All respect but no class. Beating one of my said dogs will send the Council into a skirmish between relations regardless to what they do to you. Do I make myself clear?" He fixed his glasses to perfection once more. "Mr. Ivan?"

The hand that held he wrist in an arduous grip around the joint as the bone beneath and muscle skin broke without restraint. Ivan howled in pain and released Grell, tossing him back to his bed and leaving the redhead into a coughing fit, as he faced William. Before he was given a chance to summon his death scythe William took advantage of his fazed state of mind by slugging him the middle of his face, breaking his nose and causing to bleed profusely. Grell coughed until his eyes stung but he saw Ivan fall backwards into the bedside table, a lamp and glass of water shattered when it contacted the floor.

He thought William would stop there but he was wrong when William picked a shard of glass that scuttled to his feet. He failed to see William's expression and yet the aura he released in pulses was too damn horrid to comprehend. His eyes went wide when William, with shard poised high and downwards for the unsuspecting driver, advanced upon the groaning Ivan as he got down to the bed's level. He rubbed his throat and nearly let saliva go down the other tube.

Grell could only manage to choke out his name in a hoarse vociferation,**_"William!"_**

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><p>AN: Incalculable murder? Will! You horrid man! Cliffhanger! Does he kill Ivan? He's got the motivation! Give this story a lot of reviews and you'll see what happens! Love writing this story. I said it before, I will see it to the end but what I really want to see is more reviews!

**READ AND REVIEW~!**


	21. The Psychotic People in Life

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji

A/N: I want to point out I modified the last chapter. Grell's eyesight is at a perfect 20/20 just to let you know

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><p>Alan and Undertaker were only a few corners away from the Infirmary. The younger slipped during a corner turn, resulting him in stumbling forth and snatching Undertaker's sleeve. The older whirled around and yanked Alan to his feet, furious at the loss of balance. Alan gave an apologetic yelp as he struggled the last few sprints around the corners. Both heard a scream, more of a feminine scream than masculine but second guesses were useless when they knew who it was. Undertaker reached ahead of him when they skidded to a sudden stop, his long fingers curling around the knob to turn it while the momentum gained from stopping pushed his weight into that single hand.<p>

The door flew wide open, he carelessly released it and allowed the wooden board to swing to the left, hitting the wall and causing a mirror to fall and shatter to the ground. Alan swerved around Undertaker, being the faster one, and saw Grell laying on his side, pleading to a pair that wrestled to death on the ground. The redhead looked directly at Alan and Undertaker, then he pointed at Ivan when he emerged from the fray struggling, face bloodied and eyes closed.

"The...the fucking psycho!" Ivan cried, this prompted Undertaker, tossing Grell's Cinematic Record to the side, to jostle Alan to the nearest bed and leap over one ahead when he made a mad dash to Ivan's aid. Closer inspection revealed a shard of glass, about two to three inches long, was gorged into his right eye. Undertaker grimaced and kicked Ivan to a safer place to deal with the assaulter that was on his knees. Alan was up on his feet but was met with a heavy weight hitting his shins, forcing him back down. He raised his head to see Ivan's condition, he cried out and immediately hopped to, stumbling over Ivan's outstretched arm and falling flat on his face once more.

Undertaker roared his deepest, baring his teeth like a rabid wolf establishing authority. He was the alpha of the London Division, always was and always will be, many knew that save for a good few who were quick to defy him and leave. William couldn't help but suddenly withdraw, pushing back on his hands and feet to ram his back unexpectedly against the bedside table's legs. Like an omega, he coward as though he had a tale tucked between legs. His eyes, once blinded by rage, was replaced by instant fear at the older reaper. Undertaker let out another roar before breaking out into a hysterical laughter.

"When was the last damn time you've stared at me like that? !" Undertaker howled. "You thought I was going to beat you? ! Ah! WAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

William immediately regained composure and scrambled to his feet as Grell could only continue to cough harder. The supervisor adjusted his glasses to get a better look at Undertaker, he relaxed himself with thoughts that the silver haired man wouldn't lay a black nail to his hair. He drew his attention to Grell to examine his coughing fit, the redhead slapped him away, shaking his head as a way of saying he had no desire to have William touch him. Grell pointed the same shaking hand at Undertaker to give the unsuspecting superior a fair warning of the spontaneous ambush.

A taut hand was at William's shoulder, it wretched back and forced William to spin around to have a fist jut out into his side. A sickening pop was heard over Ivan's moans of pain to indicate that the elder reaper had broken William's rib. William's breath was knocked out of his lungs as Undertaker delivered another well placed punch to the same fractured rib, the supervisor staggered to his left, clenching his side while flashing Undertaker the look a frightened child would give when being disciplined. Undertaker sneered at him,"Look at yourself, sniveling like a child when you do something horrible!"

"Undertaker!" Grell wheezed. "He was only..." He coughed his last and gave himself a brief moment to breathe properly. His eyes watered from the stinging in his throat as he forced himself to sit up. "...only defending me, Ivan started it first! Just don't hurt him anymore!"

The silver reaper paused in movement, a daft smile crept his pale lips at the sudden report of William's violent assault on the other reaper. He chuckled under his breath,"Ah, I see now...apologies to you, Will!"

"You broke a damn rib, you...you heartless bastard!" William spat, slightly bent over against the bedpost of a bed he wandered to. Undertaker ruffled through his deep pockets, only to pull them out empty of the contents he sought fore. The Infirmary quieted down save for William's labored breathing and Ivan's groans.

"Says the one who gorged out another's eye," Alan grumbled, eying William.

Undertaker wandered away, stepping over Ivan who laid on the floor, and vanished behind several curtains that hung at the other end of the room. Sounds of instruments clattering, cocks popping, herbs grounding, and whisks hitting a bowl to stir liquid was heard. As that happened, Alan aided Ivan to his feet and led him carefully towards his original bed. The American was much more larger than Alan, and much more heavier, so having him leaning against Alan's smaller form proved the task to be too difficult. Slowly, Ivan sat himself among the sheets, the bed dipped very low, spring creaked as he hissed.

Alan was about to place a gently hand to the American's face but had his hand swatted back, fallowed by a growl,"I'll do this. I've had worse happen..."

"Ivan, no, that's not safe!"

"Like I care...raaaargh!"

Grell, not wishing to see Ivan pull the shard of glass out of his own eye, got to his feet and cautiously approached William. He noticed a large, square cloth was attached to William's throat by tape; it covered the numerous stitches that were used to hold William's flap of skin in place. To his sheer horror, he discovered a small speck of blood leaching to the surface. Within seconds, more blood came, turning the speck into a blotch until finally staining the entire square. Grell grew fearful, his heart began to race as his hand slowly came to caress William's cheek.

"Will?"

Dark and distant pairs of emerald eyes stared at his dull ones; behind them, they held a sense of longing directed at Grell. The redhead was slightly entranced by the emotions he saw within them, it was as though he was seeing what William's soul truly was prior to his death. He seemed mysterious, foreboding, pain stricken, and yearning for something he most dearly lost. But all those emotions were gone in a blink, quickly replaced by the same stoic and bored expression that William carried through his day-to-day business.

Grell let out a slight smile, having forgotten the blood that was beginning to leak from base of his throat, and with a soft murmur,"Raoul looks exactly like you, Will. Just like you."

Heads perked at the name, though the bettering from behind the curtains never ceased, William gazed down at Grell and was about to speak until Alan cried out,"Ivan, lay back down- oh good of all gods here..." When Alan spotted the blood leaking from William's neck, he gave a scowl. "Undertaker, get in here!"

Undertaker popped his head from behind the curtain, he gave a low whistle and instructed,"Ivan, best you lay down there before I come over to knock you out! Alan, start treating Ivan once he starts complying...and Grell, for the sake of the man upstairs, put pressure on that patch taped to William's neck!" His head disappeared and rapid clutters were heard once more. "You children have no patience when it comes to medicine, don't you all?"

Grell snapped out of his faint, and fond, memory of the said Raoul and guided William to his own bed to sit upon. William, being prideful, helped himself the rest of the way and nabbed a nearby washcloth for himself. "Honestly, stop being so independent," Grell scolded him with a huff while plopping himself next to William. He snatched the washcloth and gently applied it to William's throat, he placed soft pressure so that he wouldn't harm him, though William winced at the contact. "Don't talk, you'll rip it open..."

"...it's ironic...Grell," William murmured, Grell stopped and stared at him. He never used Grell's first name, not once, in his life. Why now?

"I told you not to talk-"

"...that you're trying to close the same wound you opened."

Grell looked away, crestfallen. He was about to open his mouth until Undertaker came bounding by holding a large vial. "Have the little bastard swallow it! Hurry up, I got to go to Ivan next. Alan, how are you holding up on Ivan?"

"Just give me that shit you call apothecary!" Ivan barked at the man with the top hat. Undertaker casually dropped the vial into Grell's lap and went over to Ivan, only to have his portion snatched away by his last good hand. Grell took a hold of the neck of the bottle, then he stared at William; the man was watching him patiently, silently asking him to hand over the vial. The neck switched hands and the rim was brought to William's dry, cracked lips. He slowly ingested the medicine and sighed, placing the bottle on the bedside table and bringing his hand to unconsciously rub the bandage.

Instead of making contact with the rough piece of cloth, his hand brushed over the back of Grell's. The redhead blushed feverishly when his fingers made to clasp over his dainty hand and press it further into his neck. William's breaths became strained but he sighed in content. It was probably the pressure that relieved the pain. William closed his eyes, looking a bit less tense than earlier. Grell remained worried, though he knew the magic of Undertaker's strange potion that seemed to have the same effect as the Scarlet.

Ivan was heard behind the two when he flopped himself to his side like a dead dog and closed his eyes. Alan groaned in frustration and began to clean his face while Undertaker tended to his broken wrist. It was only a few minutes later did William, slowly removing Grell's hand from his throat, gain the ability to speak,"And you are very much like someone I knew."

Undertaker paused in his movements with realigning Ivan's wrist, he reached behind his robes to fumble for his rusted scalpel. He brought it forth and gave it to Alan, who stared at it as though it were the most disgusting thing he ever saw in his life save for the shard sticking out of Ivan's face. Alan waved it away and left his position, trusting that everyone had calmed, though Undertaker thought different.

"Hey, guys?" Alan asked as he wandered the Infirmary. "...where are the Nurses? Aren't they normally here at this hour?"

"A bit strange. It won't matter...when you're done patching his eye, go and fix William's ribs, I forgotten how to do that...also, Grell...Grell?" The silver haired man looked up to see William leaning close to Grell, their lips making contact. Undertaker dropped Ivan's wrist and earned a growl of pain from the American, his lips twitched and he grimaced at what was going on. They were sharing a soft kiss, tongues idly entering and withdrawing from both their mouths. William's eyes were closed while Grell's was open in full surprise of what was going on, though he slowly closed them as well as he rolled into the sensual kiss. "..."

Grell's face blushed ever so redder, much more than his flaming red hair, when William gently nipped at his lip. _Oh, it's just like all my fantasies, he really is a damn good-_

_"WILLIAM!"_ Undertaker bellowed sharply, thrusting his wrist carrying the rusted scalpel at the two, his aim was perfect in separating them when they parted for air. Grell immediately pulled away as the blade of the rusted scalpel burrowed into the dry wall of the Infirmary. William flashed him a dangerous glare, one in which that if he had his death scythe, he would have beheaded Undertaker right on the spot, but the older man quickly turned his eyes back at the wrist to treat it, he spoke in an even tone, one that was commanding,"He's not Charlotte so you better stop there before you hurt him. Open your mouth again and I'll throw a shard of glass at you, promise I won't miss...promise you that."

-...-

Eric sipped at his morning coffee, waiting by a phone while trying to look inconspicuous. He leaned against the wall as other reapers that were calling made or finished conversations on the other end. His free hand reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a calling card, he stared at it to decipher the illegible numbers scribbled on the card and spent ten minutes looking it over. After cracking the code, he replaced it into his breast pocket and went over to the closest phone. He dialed in the numbers and leaned against the wall, waiting for the ringer to be picked up.

_Riiiiiiiiiiing~!...Riiiiiiiiiiiing~!_

On the last ring, he was about to place the phone back to the dialer until he heard a voice on the other end go,"Do you have any idea what time it is-"

"Do you have any idea where Samantha is? ! She's missing, practically dead last I saw her! You know, I'm not going to help you any longer is she has to keep playing damsel in distress," Eric ranted, then the voice grew angered, growling,"I ordered you to protect her at all costs!"

Eric wanted to laugh. "Heh, bullshit, man...bullshit. Listen, you want her back, you better come and get her yourself!"

"Argh!" In the background, Eric could hear the man hurling furniture at the wall and various other places, his feral snarl was the last noise made before the dialer went blank. Did he take that literally as an invitation to this Realm? Eric coolly stepped aside so that the next reaper in line would have a chance at the telephone, he wandered away, throwing his empty coffee cup into the nearest trashcan. Well, there goes the deal but with the amount of souls he had gathered by now, it would be enough to collect solo. Eric held out his hand an Raoul's book materialized in his palm as he went to sit at the edge of the fountain.

He opened the leather bound book and scanned through the pages, wondering how long it would take for the blank pages ahead of him would fill up with words, but they didn't. He reached into his pocket to pull out a cigarette and lighter, he lit it and took small huffs to get the embers burning. He exhaled as he went to the last page of the book where endless blank, white papers formed without words. He waited until he saw a speck of black appear on the bottom left corner. _"He set foot into the Realm of the Death Gods_...this should be fun," he murmured sarcastically, reading from his spot the next few words. He withdrew air and watched the words go by.

-...-

Ronald tried to ease her, he placed an affectionate hand to her face after he wrapped the last bandage and was now attending to her marred face. Apparently, she truly wasn't a reaper; he only realized this now when she failed to instantly heal herself from mortal wounds inflicted to her delicate body. She sobbed into his palm, her good hand clenching the white sheets. It was like this for a good hour since he had woken up, no words were spoken as he let her cry it out.

_Must be the pain._

Terrible pain, she wept and wept and he never left. If William had ever set a good example for Ronald regarding the well-being of others, it was when he stayed by Grell's bedside no matter what. He probably cared for Grell more than what met the eye when Ronald observed the two. The blond sighed, ruffled his hair, and was about to say his words until Samantha jolted away from his hand, her sobs were cut off abruptly. She whispered with hope in her voice,"Master!"

"Master?" he repeated dumbly, taking his hand back to wipe it clean of tears. She managed to sit herself up, she gazed at Ronald with a calm smile, he could see every teardrop of her eyelashes but he shook the thought away when he reached out. "Get back down-"

It was intimidating when she gave him that smile. Something's up. He began to doubt her for whatever she said next,"Would you like to...run away with me?"

"Weren't you just crying your eyes out? God, choose an emotion already!" He exclaimed, feeling that she wasn't going to have another breakdown. He was wrong when she looked down to avoid his eyes. "It's not that I'd like to run away, it's just that I...I have to stay here-"

"But for what purpose? !" She snapped at him, tears began to flow out of frustration as he fell back in his chair. She towered over him like a vulture to her prey. "You don't realize the truth, do you? !"

"What bloody truth? !"

He crawled back and away from her. "That your kind are bound for Hell the second you perish! But Master can offer you an escape if you-"

"The fuck is wrong with you? !"

Whatever sympathy he had for her was gone now, she wasn't making any sense. To Hell? His kind? He brushed that away. In truth, he can't exactly love her; they were always on and off, he never exactly saw her as anything more than a friend with a benefit. The thought never crossed his mind that she saw him as something more than that, and since she remained unfaithful (being that she leaves him alone in bed after a night of fun) he believed that her little stunt of saying she was pregnant was nothing more than to get her on his good side.

In truth, he hated the psychotic people in his life, that included Undertaker, Grell, and now Samantha. Here she was, on his bed, crying her eyes out, then smiling, then raving on about a Master and a dream that only teenage lovers would think of. Now she was beginning to belittle his race. He wanted her to shut up now. He reached underneath the cabinets and pulled out a knife, one that he found most efficient if his lawnmower proved to much to handle during a fight.

He was ready to lunge out at her as she continued on, she wasn't even paying attention to what he was doing. _Man, she must be too damn desperate._ He stood up, edge of the blade to her neck, she stopped her babbling and stared up at him, flabbergasted at his approach.

"Listen, lady...I should have killed you when Ivan told me to. Since I put so much effort into trying to stand up for you, I'll probably be marked as a traitor by the Council-"

Her hand went to stroke his jaw. "You...you did it out of love-"

"It was out of guilt, you bitch! I just finished the Academy and the first thing I want to do is party and have a hell of a lot of fun, not get weighed down by family...you catch my drift? If you wanted to live, you shouldn't have told me your were pregnant. An International Reaper like you would have checked up on Cinematic Records to know how I died before...I don't make a good family man, really..."

"W-wait!" She begged, realizing what he meant, the hint of him wanting to see her bleed to death was nothing more than something that came out of a horror novel. Her smile faded away as she asked quietly,"W..w-why did you...p-protect me?"

"Thought you were sane. Turns out you aren't...plus, I hate crazy girls."

She tried to back away but her legs kept her immobile. "N-no, p-p-please...so...you lied to me? I thought y-you cared about me..."

"Not anymore." The blade edged deeper onto her skin, not yet breaking the supple surface. He grinned boyishly to her as she closed her eyes. "The only thing I loved about you was that you let me fuck you senseless every night without complaining." She gasped when he pressed harder on the blade, the pressure was about to pierce the skin but he suddenly drew it away from her; she sighed, relieved that he decided to spare her. She opened her eyes to see Ronald on the ground passed out, the knife hanging loosely by his fingers. She glanced left and right, a familiar face was at eye level when she looked forward.

"Master!" She breathed. "Finally!"

The said 'Master' had a foot on Ronald's shoulder, he was dressed in his usual attire though he wore a black lab coat to be less obvious to the reapers outside. He sat down on the bed beside her and pointed at Ronald. "That's the reaper you mentioned in your letter?" He asked in a tone that showed he was displeased at her choosing.

She nodded vigorously while bowing her head low in respect. "Absolutely!"

"...Samantha, he just _tried to kill you_..."

"He _loves_ me, I know he does...he...he's just afraid to admit it!" She giggled, though she cringed at the stinging sensation coursing from her legs to her spinal chord to her brain. "Ah!" Raoul turned around to look at her lame limbs. "Master...Undertaker did this to me..."

Raoul shook his head, disappointed at her being so easy to catch. "That boy made you too soft...but alright...if you wish-"

"It's my only wish!"

"..." He made a wry face but gave in to her request. He reached down and easily lifted Ronald up by the scruff of his neck. Raoul gave him a weary look but then it changed. He could change Ronald Knox. He gave a devious smile as he dug the tip of his fingers into the back of Ronald's neck. Samantha wrapped an arm around Raoul's shoulder and held tight as the trio began to fade away into the shadows. They dematerialized ever so slowly, skin turning black then becoming transparent until they became one with the air. Soon enough, they were gone by the time Eric slammed open the door to find them missing.

Eric kicked the stool in indignation. "Shit!"

* * *

><p><strong><em><span>READ &amp; REVIEW!<span>_**


	22. Loopholes

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji

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><p>It's known as the Everto.<p>

Mentioned many times by Samantha, it is a strange world. It's populations mainly composed of demons, angels, humans, and whatever can come out of them; creatures and gods of mythology were a plausible inhabitant in this seemingly odd fantasy as well. Practically every beast ever written or passed by tongue in the Human Realm existed, every single kind with the exemption of one: The Grim Reaper, The Gods of Death, The Death Gods. They never entered the Everto Realm. A simple cause of this was because of souls.

Having Grim Reapers enter and harvesting nearly every single soul in both the Human Realm and the Everto would result in a full scale war, mainly between demons and reapers themselves.

What was the purpose of this world? It served as a haven for demons, a place where they lived peacefully without the chaos of Hell and the pursue of reapers; this was where the _domesticated_ kind lived. It was proper demons that preferred to live in close relation to humans, treating them as equals, and yet they were willing to devour souls. Some time before, they were as civilized as reapers, they held no emotions and therefore never had feelings of hatred or love. War never broke out, famine never struck, nature never slapped her inhabitants, threats and arms were never raised, and no blood was shed, given, stolen, or spilled. The only violence that came were those of human souls being devoured.

It was almost like a perfect world...until man's sins spoiled it all, introducing their own twisted creatures, eating away the equilibrium the Everto had managed to acquire and formally maintain for thousands of years. Hybrids between humans and demons came forth, breeding amongst the tainted population and wiping away whatever sanity that demons purely held to. It resulted in some bloodlines to be far more defective than those from Hell. Eventually, years of this developing monstrosity came to desecrate the Everto to nothing but a barren land in which only outcasts of any magical being came for resting from reapers.

As mentioned before, reapers were forbidden to enter the Everto. Common sense was that reapers reaped souls, it was highly unfair for reapers to harvest souls in which they were meant for the meals of demons that thrived. There had been a few in the past that may have come and gone, only if they had stumbled along a way to enter the Everto, and those few were instantly put to death when discovered by the inhabitants. But by now, the old pact made before was only used when an actual reaper was spotted with their signature death scythes. In order to play safe, reapers solemnly entered for the sake of staying alive.

Only the privileged few were allowed, them and no one else, to set foot for attending important matters.

"We're never allowed to set foot in this accursed world and yet here we are, breaking the very laws set forth by Undertaker and those damned animals," Richardson spat, his saliva shot from his mouth to the ground. He and several Elders of the Council were readying to leave, only a good three were held behind for unknown reasons but the rest waited, faithful as ever. The youngest Elder nodded. "Kris, this is your first time here, isn't it?"

Kris, known as the younger of all, stood amongst the group. He coolly twirled a soul in his hand, letting it dance through his fingers like a dolphin would with the bow of a ship. "Very gruesome...Richardson, I didn't tell you my report. I'll tell you, Samantha Starveling is well known around here." They nodded for him to continue. "Rules set in stone may always have loopholes."

Several grumbles from the crowd came by in agreement, eyes averting to him to observe his easy pace. They were in a circle around him in an open street. None dared to strike out, regardless if an Everto creature knew if they were reaper or not; they radiated so much power that it intimidated everyone and everything. The young reaper reached into his trench coat to pull out a jar, contents inside were that of a pair of eyeballs; the Council stood unfazed as the soul that danced within his fingers trembled in midair and darted away to hide behind Kris' shoulder.

"These were bought at a fair price. Three Cinematic Records for them." He shook the jar, the eyes bounced about, the nerves behind it wormed with the eyeballs, plastering itself to the side of the jar. "Body parts of reapers are sold here. I bribed a few, say they come from France, Romania, Spain, and Germany. American reapers are a rarity but they're sold as well. These are the eyes from France, a very popular produce."

"Disgusting...but this relates to the loophole how?" asked another Elder besides Richardson, who was frowning at the eyeballs.

"Full fledged Gods of Death are never allowed here, but those who have some sort, any sort, or human body part attached to them are permitted here. So, technically, they're not true reapers."

"So what you mean is that if a reaper undergoes operation to replace a part of them, the Everto will not pay mind to them? Such a funny thing, but why would a reaper enter? It's forbidden..."

Kris waved an index finger at him. "Ah, ah, but there's more. Remember, these are from the fallen Divisions in our world, and from what I hear, the unlucky bastards are dragged here unsuspectingly before, during, and after the collapse. Starveling plays a role in that though...I'm a bit sketchy on details on what she does but I can gather more information. All I know is that she's able to lure reapers here, then Raoul Sylvestre, a well-known witch doctor from the States, performs his operations on them. Once a reaper has the body part of a human, it's mainly eyes, they are put into our Realm and sent off to work. Soon enough, when there's enough dysfunctional reapers, well, you know what would happen..."

"That would explain why the Paris Division's Council won't answer my calls," Richardson said thoughtfully. "Grell Sutcliff is the only reaper that seems to have his eyes replaced apparently, who has records of Samantha Starveling?"

"I do, Sir," answered Evans, the only non-Elder of the Council. He played the role of a historian and record keeper of employees of the London Division, often he was the only Council member everyone had met personally. His hair was peppered black and silver, a sign of him slowly becoming and Elder. He opened a book and rummaged through its numerous pages to find Samantha. "She started working under the London Division five years ago. Collapse of other Divisions occur two years of her entering and leaving for another. No further notes were taken..."

Several Elders gasped in shock, an emotion they rarely revealed. Kris spoke with eyebrows raised as he passed the jar of reaper's eyes around,"Five years? Sir, we have the largest Division in Europe, it's obvious that it would take her long to infect a large amount of reapers. So many of our kind would have been changed!"

"And yet we never broken down just yet." Richardson broke the circle, he addressed all that were among him,"Everyone, return to our world and begin an entire physical screening for every single reaper, tell the Supervisors to alternate in workers to avoid overtime and back up of soul collecting. I want only the Elders and Evans to search, reasons are plain as day. Be sure to search for human parts attached to them by slicing every inch of skin, time how fast it heals. Understand?"

A chorus of,"Yes, Sir," resounded through his ears as they got to one knee to kneel before him.

"You may take your leave."

Into the darkness the Elders left, one by one they faded in a transparent shade of black until they were gone. Richardson and Kris were left, the youngest stared up at the towering man. Words were indescribable at the authoritative appeal the man had; his hair was tied back and neater than Undertaker's and yet they shared the same facial features save for the scars. His eyes were stunningly gorgeous and saw more than souls and Cinematic Records, they saw more than those as if there was more to the spirituality of things. Kris stood up to face him.

"What is it, Kris?"

"Well...I know the rules and everything, but I think it's high time you told me why Undertaker's been forced to retire. I hear stories of him being saint to a lot of reapers, even to William, the one he mistreats..."

"...it was not my decision but everyone else's, I only enforced it. Kris..." Richardson turned to face him. "I will tell you something that only those in the Everto had known. Be sure to never repeat it, never to utter it to any reaper you see the minute you return." Kris was silent, waiting for him. "It was during the Crusades when we worked together as mere Officers, we encountered Saint Helena and a Fallen Angel by the name of Famulus, both of which were servants of the good Lord himself. Me and Undertaker, we were young and reckless, something about that changed when Famulus told us that reapers were damned for Hell-"

Kris broke in,"Why did you trust the words of a Fallen? Treachery is the worst sin."

"True, but he was the closest to the Lord, he was just...mad. All in all, we learned that our kind were damned for Hell for what we done. You see, when humans die, certain, few selected souls are given a second chance at life; refusing to die and fall into the hands of God is considered treachery as well, it's like not accepting his love...yes, we may be creatures of divine power but...there is always a price. Whether you believe me or not, it does not change Undertaker; his family was murdered so he hung himself out of grief. When he was reborn as a reaper like me, well...he thought that when his time as a God was over with, he would join his family high above...he grew mental when Saint Helena told him of that. Sure he was unstable, the weak link of the Council but remained a strong leader amazingly; I myself had nothing to lose, so I had a hard time comprehending his feelings.

"Only until he found William T. Spears did he change, not for the better but that was he began to laugh nowadays. He understood the man's sorrow and sought to cure him by showing the benefits of life...but William was a madman to begin with. For every reaper William partnered with, William would slaughter during a final exam of the Academy, along with other humans. With Undertaker there to cover up his tracks, William would easily get away with such evil doings. I kept silent about it but the rest of the Council grew weary of Undertaker due to the amounts of the Scarlet he ordered periodically."

"Then how did William remain in our Division?"

"Undertaker began an experiment to even him out. He began to use the Scarlet, sneaking it into William's stock of wine, so that he would slowly expel the emotions that would trigger William's rage. The Scarlet was in circulation in 1495 and was effective until banning in 1700 when the Council and I thought it was unnecessary to use, by that time, Undertaker was a well known miracle worker so everyone bought his stuff instead of the Scarlet. Anyway, William only stayed because every time he committed a massacre, Undertaker would murder him and make him into a whole new reaper; that continued on for thirty-five times I believe, and with every form Undertaker gave him, he also gave controlled amounts of the Scarlet.

"When one perishes and becomes a reaper, partial memory of your past is stripped away but that's only essential for creating a stable-minded reaper. William was a special case, he never let go of his memories because it ached him; it was Undertaker's fault as well that he failed to create a Cinematic Rip of William's violent life. His excuse was that anger was what kept William going, his anger was righteous when pointed towards demons but when it was pointed at reapers nothing can come out right. You see, demons were involved in William's reason for murder...when William learned that he became a god and his natural enemies would be angels and demons, he began to abuse his power by just butchering anyone he was paranoid of being a demon.

"With him under the Scarlet, Undertaker was able to manipulate him into becoming a sane person. I don't know if William can remember his own memories but they must be repressed, as long as emotions aren't triggered with memories then he should remain the William T. Spears as of today. What I didn't like was the fact it took Undertaker so long to straiten the man, nearly three hundred years? Hmph, he could have put more effort into life. But...to answer your main question, Undertaker wasn't retired because of William, only because of the Scarlet; we searched his home and found him in possession of the Scarlet, we held a trial, then I sentenced him to retire. Of course, he and I both knew that his experiment with William was nearly complete but that guy was already a mindless drone that was reduced to nothing but an efficient worker.

_"'Put him with power over others and he would be the best damn reaper you'll have besides me,'_ Undertaker told me before he turned in his glasses and trench coat. I took up for his word and requested Evans to do so after a few years of William being a functional god. So...in the end Undertaker was stripped of godhood and William gained it; he cares for William as though he were his own boy but...he's only so harsh to William, a rule came to me and the Council. As long as we continue to establish authority towards William, as long as he has someone repressing and belittling him, he would do his best to please and not displease. He knows the difference from right and wrong...he just needs a firm hand. You, Kris, are the only Elder that knows of this, speak nothing of it to anyone, understand?"

The two still stood under an oak tree, still waiting for the other three Elders to return. An hour passed by when they spoke. Richardson looked over his pocket watch to find that it was around nine in morning in their world. He consciously worried for the state of everyone even though he left in a furry. Kris began to soak in the story that Richardson had told him, he nodded slowly, readying to ask another question as the three they were waiting for arrived. Richardson adjusted his coat and brushed it free of any dirt as he ordered,"Kris, you know what I ordered the others, inform them as I leave. When the deed is done, I want the Council to meet me at the Library-"

One of the three that arrived panted loudly,"N-no, before you take your leave, Sir...I...I...I spotted William T. Spears with Samantha Starveling!"

Richardson stared at him as if he were speaking another language. He counted numbers under his breath to ease his anxiety. "Please, I doubt it would actually be him. Spears died a few hundred years ago...and this is no place for him."

"But Sir! He had a reaper of ours! Ronald Knox! W-what if they are involved in all this? !"

"Knox must be held captive. You three, your hands are needed at the Library. Knox can take care of himself, please, let me lea-"

"No! Sir! Your daughter, Heather, she is here as well-"

"WHAT? ! Then you three, go and fetch her!" Richardson barked. "And do not return until you have gotten her back!" He threw a hand towards them but they cowered away from reach. One fell back but scrambled to his feet to join up with the other two; they were gone in an instant as Richardson faced Kris once more. "...go, go and take your leave. Must I repeat for the third time?" Kris shook his head and began to fade into the darkness. Richardson turned his head to face the world that he was in, he gritted his teeth as it slowly became black.

-...-

Eric pounded his fist into the door frame, he gave a loud groan when he pulled back to find splinters embedded into his custom gloves. He bushed the away and left Ronald's apartment, but he left with fire to his steps. He stormed down the streets until he picked up speed and leaped up high to the rooftops; that was when he tore through the air, sprinting as fast as his legs would carry him, not that it was any challenge, towards the Library. He eventually merged unto the steps, for God knows how fast he went, and easily dodged any passerby as he quickly ascended the grand stair case.

As one would be observant, the London Division had a special location. It resided near an endless ocean, its Library overlooking a large bluff remained as a reminiscent to the old castles of Medieval England where such grand structures would be built on a hill or mountain, for defense purposes obviously. Eric continued to run, avoiding many as much as possible, until he ended his marathon right at the first three steps of the building. He took several moments to catch his breath so that he would enter.

What was he going to explain to William? The truth? Or just half of it? _Oh, yes, Ronald was taken away by Starveling, also I've been working with the enemy to gain souls for Alan while not caring about the London Division collapsing. Oh, shit, Eric...you fucked us over this time. Stupid shit...I shouldn't have said yes to that bastard_. Eric figured by now Alan should have told what happened, or at least what the two had learned and then some ore information. Even if he told, it would only be limited to what Alan would know. Sure he was getting on the right track but Eric, well, while he worked with the man responsible for the collapses of Divisions, he cared not for the details and had only interest in the extra souls.

His task was simple. _Protect Samantha and you will gain souls._ Those words echoed through his mind but now, it didn't matter, he could collect pure souls on his own from then on. It was a good five year job and as long as reapers he knew of were not involved with Raoul's twisted plans, Eric would care less. But now it was different, Eric made that decision when he witnessed Ronald's abduction. He knew of Grell's situation but he had small the time to observe but he knew Raoul's work when he saw it. As he jabbed his fingers against a button of the elevator, he fumed. He pressed again, growing impatient.

"Ah, Eric Slingby I believe."

Eric whirled around, his heart pounded to see Evans, an Elder. Eric gave him a swift bow and addressed him with a fake, practiced smile,"Sir Evans, what do you need?" They were alone.

"Well, Spears is in the Infirmary from what I hear and last I checked his team, you were second in command if he would ever have an absence." Eric nodded. O_h, yeah, that._ "I just need you to take over for him when we asses his department. We just need to make sure that this new disease spreading among reapers will not have gotten to our Division."

_Disease my ass, they probably found out about Raoul and are checking the entire Division for his handiwork._

Eric nodded once more, stuffing his hands to his pockets and listening to what else Evans had to say,"I hate to burden this to you but can you collect some souls for the day? It's Friday and it's his usual round of collecting souls." Evans handed him a thick folder. "Oh, also, the Council noticed an uncollected soul that Grell Sutcliff was supposed to reap a few nights ago, but seeing his condition I doubt he would have gotten to it...would you be as so kind as to get a Cinematic Record and Reflection Reports out of him?"

"...yeah, that shouldn't be a problem." He shrugged casually as the door to the elevator opened with a _ding!_

"Good, well, I shall make my way then." Eric clung to the folders along with Raoul's Cinematic Record, Evens spotted it. "...may I...take that from you?" He extended his hand, it meant that he was more of ordering than asking Eric to do so. Reluctantly, Eric handed the Cinematic Record and Evans read over the name. "..._Raoul Sylvestre?_...what a coincidence. Is there...any particular reason you are carrying such a Cinematic Record, Slingby?"

"...no," he lied,"I was carrying it for Alan. He asked me to get it, now I just need to find him."

"I'm sorry, but the Council needs to...look over this particular man. You don't mind me taking it?"

Eric shook his head.

"Good." Evans beckoned him to stay longer so that they would converse more, he opened the book to look over the blank pages. Eric leaned against the wall and sighed as Evans frowned at the numerous unwritten papers that fluttered as he flipped through them, he suddenly paused at the first sign of ink and read the passage. His fingers tensed and he decided to read aloud, Eric took note of the sudden darkness in Evans.

_'...Raoul entered Ronald Knox's apartment and found Samantha Starveling pleading for Knox to stay with her. A brief conversation goes on between the two and Knox makes to kill Starveling, but Raoul intervenes and renders Knox unconscious. Another conversation between Master and Servant and a decision is made to take Knox with them to...'_ There was a Black Space. _'...and the two use Shadow Water to go to...'_ There was another Blank Space. _'As they left, Eric Slingby-'_

And the last passage cut off at Eric's name, the latter was astonished at Evans, who snapped the book shut.

"What is your name doing in a wanted man's Cinematic Record?"

Eric began to sidle to the side, Evans continued to watch him like a vulture cornering his prey. Eric shrugged, saying,"Sir Evans I have no dea why my name is in there-"

"You're in connection with Sylvestre?...Slingby? If I find that you are connected to the London Division's collapse then I will file for immediate execution!" Eric threw a hard punch to Evans, it was enough to knock him out, and perhaps break a jaw. Eric's eyes blazed as Evens fell back, the Cinematic Record toppled to the ground. He then summoned his death scythe and sliced across the Elder's chest horizontally with his saw. Cinematic Records came burst forth from the wound and Eric prayed that none would come across this scene. And none did.

The strips floated upwards as Eric grabbed a hold of the closest one, luckily, it was the one that happened most recently. He took a chunk of it into his fist and tugged it roughly to separate it from the rest. The jagged teeth of his weapon was brought forth to cut away at the Cinematic Record, tearing it from the other memory and creating a Cinematic Rip. Wispy white liquid leaked from his saw but he cared not, as long as he held the Rip he knew that Evans would not remember what had passed.

Slowly, untouched, the Cinematic Records withdrew back into the wound and disappeared as though they were untouched. Eric aided Evans to his feet as he came too, his hand clutched the Rip as he hid it from view.

"My...what happened?"

"Sir Evans, you fell..."

"I fell?" Evans asked dumbly, Eric nodded as he sent away his death scythe. "Well...um...Slingby...you know your orders?"

_Damn, I should have Ripped that part._

"Yes Sir."

"Then conduct them."

Eric nodded and entered the elevator, in his hand was the Rip, squirming rapidly in his death grip. He sighed, closing his eyes, and waited for the elevator to reach his destined floor. He pinched the bridge of his nose. Sure he took care of that problem but it failed to relieve him on the original issue that caused it. His name was still in Raoul Sylvestre's Cinematic Record.

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><p>AN: I hope you understand the story some more. I just wanted to accentuate the difference between Richardson and Undertaker. Like how Undertaker is scatterbrained and therefore will have vague explanations. Richardson contrasts him by being more in depth. Also, I get tons of viewers so I wanna see a bit of diversity in the reviews. I love you supporters out there but don't be shy to criticize this story! I wish to see diversity here!

**_READ & REVIEW!_**


	23. The Other Side

Disclaimer: I don't own Kuroshitsuji

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><p>Raoul sipped his tea as he waited for the young reaper strapped to the gurney to awaken. They were in a dark room where nothing but a candle illuminated it. Ah, he remembered when Grell was here not more than a little while back; he was an interesting fellow. He was strangely compliant than any reaper he had but still kept that fiery attitude to match his hair. Grell always complained about how cold the room was to him, it reminded him of a certain, significant other in life that was dearest to him. Raoul was somewhat entertained by him and decided to keep him, but keeping him did not mean he received the best of treatments.<p>

_They're all the same, all of them..but London...it's different with them._

Compared to the other Divisions he conspired against, he wondered why Samantha treated London as gold. He never understood until she brought home _that_ child. As it turned out, the London Division was literally a growing population of the death gods; a child was mere proof of the fertility. He wished to see more specimens but weeks passed without a single report. _It was probably the kid here delaying her._ He shrugged it off, as long as Samantha was happy, then Raoul was happy; she was a desperate woman, even when Raoul first took her in. But why him when she charmed every other reaper she bedded with during her time with the other Divisions?

He shook his head in disappointment. Her sudden lack of obedience to Raoul wavered slightly over the past month or so after she posed as an International Reaper transferring to the London Division. He knew he would have to find an inside man that would work for him like a dog begging for a bone. Coincidentally, Samantha was sent to reap a few souls one night and stumbled upon Eric Slingby harvesting souls that were unlisted. She blackmailed him into telling her why he needed the surplus souls, of course, he answered that it was a cure for Alan Humphries' terminal illness.

Intrigued by him, Raoul demanded that Eric would set foot to the Everto for just a while to strike a deal. For every month or so of Samantha having protection, Raoul would give him five extra souls as payment since pure human souls was common produce in the Everto. Eric, being ignorant of Raoul's true identity was or the future doom he had brought to the London Division, greedily agreed without hesitation.

He heard Ronald groan in his gurney, the leather straps rubbed against his skin while chains clattered about. Was he coming to? No, not yet.

Raoul absentmindedly tapped his toe on the ground rhythmically, he threw his hands to his knees and forced himself to his feet. He would check on Ronald later, for now, he needed to see how Samantha held up. He knew Italian doctors were the best but were they trustworthy? Just as he was about to leave when the door opened, light poured in from the hallway as he looked around for the unexpected visitor. A thought crossed his mind, telling him to look down.

Young Heather Humphries stood there in her usual white dress, innocent as ever, she stared back at Raoul. "Father?"

He remembered Samantha acquiring such a precious dove, the girl would be most useful to tear down the Council. Unlike other reapers, Raoul treated her fairly, giving her clothes, food, water, and the occasional toy. But every now and again she would accompany him to the market; though she was in residence for two years, already had Raoul begin to rear her as though she were his own. He gave her a meaningful pat on the head. Unfortunately, he had placed her under the Scarlet and, since she had a short life, manipulation of her Cinematic Record was easily obtained.

"What is it, sweetheart?"

All the girl knew was that Raoul was her father and no one else was her family.

"...Doctor Giovanni, he was found dead...the reapers you put at the asylum in the London Division told me so."

"I guess I'll have to operate on Samantha myself." He gave her a pleasant smile. "Stay here and watch that boy there, please, dear? Oh, and did they say who killed him?"

Heather walked passed him, not looking at him any longer. She replied,"A red reaper...his name was Grell Sutcliff."

Raoul frowned and left the room quietly, his hand held to the latch on the old door and closed it. That name came back to him, so Grell had fallen to insanity? He shook his head as he strode down the corridor, mindful of the wreckage of the ancient building he resided in. _Oh, it would take more Grells to put that place into chaos._ With Samantha out of comission, Raoul would have to make a personal entry to the London Division's domain and raise Hell himself. She played her role, now all he had to do was put her scattered pieces of the puzzle together and fuck the entire place over.

After all, this was personal. The London Division housed his Cinematic Record. If an Elder found his identity and used a Death Bookmark and Death Pen to alter his story, then all his work would have been shattered to a million useless pieces.

_Business came first,_ he thought to himself as he began to fade away into the darkness.

-...-

Undertaker was a man to be revered.

That was clear to Grell as he stared, wide eyed, at Undertaker. The man's silver hair was wispy and seemed to half even floated to give him the appearance of a white lion, but even as he spoke with such a calm voice, it still left Grell at a state of unrest regardless if even William went further. Slowly, Grell faced William, they still sat close but never touched noses.

"Empty promises you're giving?" Grell tested the silver reaper, the latter shot his eyes at him, almost leering, as the redhead continued,"I doubt you'd be able to spit fire."

"Guys, just drop it!" Alan barked like a lapdog, attention was on him now. "Grell, the man is just trying to keep everyone sane...Hell, Spears wouldn't randomly kiss you out of nowhere, would he?" Grell was taken aback. "Thought so. Relax, everyone, I can't concentrate if you three start rows at each other...I'll end up taking Ivan's eye out instead of glass!" The said brunette had a pair tweezers and was in the complicated, and frustrating, process of extracting a single piece of glass.

Grell opened his mouth to retort but closed it at a single thought. His eyes slowly drifted to William, hoping that William would belittle Alan for saying such a derogatory truth; instead, the latter ignored him by gazing at the window in an almost distant way. Grell gave a weak whimper, his teeth nipped at his lip, he threatened to even cry but a small part of his mind had a feeling William would fail to give him comfort. They had been together, as partners, for a good century and a half; in that century and half, Grell had to deal with William's constant mistreatment, overpowering control, and unrequited emotions.

Partners were assigned at the Academy, Undertaker was careful to choose who exactly was to be partnered with William. The silver haired man chose Grell, one who would attempt to stamp out anyone who defied his will. But William had his way with him when Undertaker left the London Division. Once he was given power over Grell, William was quick to restrain him and keep him on a short collar and tight leash. But the more William pulled the small leash, the harder Grell fought.

A heartbeat pounded in Grell's chest much more louder when he briefly reflected over his place in which William had put him in his life.

The relationship was a very biased one in which Grell was deprived of the many things in life. Often he pouted at the limitations William done to him, then he began to think of the others on William's personal team. The rest were given overtime and yet had as much freedom to do as they please. Grell thought back to the many times William restricted him from entering the Human Realm or doing anything that seemed fun, perhaps the only time Grell had any time to tend to his personal needs was when William was sent to Austria for a conference regarding demons spawning.

During his absence, Eric was more lenient towards workers, giving Grell the perfect opportunity to play the double role of the innocent, incompetent butler of the Durless Household and Jack the Ripper. It was only when William return did Grell become detached from the Human Realm and the Reaper Society once more, confined to no more than stepping out of his office for the length of ten months. He felt boxed in when he done time for his actions, when the Council ordered William to do as much discipline necessary; that included even more intentional isolation from everyone.

It was then and there that Grell realized that William had been possessive of him the entire time. Was it out of love? No, Grell sensed it was anything but that. If William wanted to love Grell and posses him at the same time, well, the relationship would have been softer on the two, especially Grell, who would have more than happy to comply to William instead of fretting over even the smallest of orders.

Reluctantly, Grell pulled himself away from William but feared he would lash out to grab him. He didn't, Grell decided to take refuge a bed across him, he sat directly in front of William.

"William?...who is Charlotte?"

He waited for an answer, a part of him was surprised when William actually answered,"Someone I knew." He eyed Grell quietly. "...why?"

"You mentioned her name...who is she, really..."

For the first time, William was talking with him, not to him. The most amazing part was that he was willing to. Undertaker frowned but kept mind to the wrist he was attempting to fix. If he hadn't had his hands tied up he would have went over to strangle William. If Alan hadn't had been preoccupied he would have barked at Alan to break up the conversation. It wasn't to establish authority to William, it was simply the spark of rage that had ignited into a full blown inferno in his heart; Undertaker was sick of his sad story.

Alan glanced over at the two, wondering why Grell had decided to prod into William's inner workings of himself. He wouldn't blame Grell, he would have done the same out of curiosity if he hadn't looked at his Cinematic Record. The brunette wanted to do what Undertaker wanted done; sew Grell's lips closed for the sake of William.

William was quiet, though his hands twiddled with the sheets. He hissed in pain when he shifted about so he made to stay where he was. He spoke behind gritted teeth,"Someone who was very close to me."

"Close? How so?"

"...very."

"A lover-"

"A wife," William corrected him quickly, Grell gave an understanding,"Ah."

"Died giving birth."

Well, it was not much of a conversation but at least William was talking. He was giving short, fast answers to hide his face.

"I'm sorry."

"You look like her." His hand traveled from the bed's linen to Grell's pale cheek. "You look...so much like her."

Grell heard a tinge of pain in William's once cold, stoic, unrelenting voice. The more the man spoke, the more the tinge grew into sadness. The redhead had never seen William in such a sorry state before, one in which he himself had caused. The decades of seeing the same sights and listening to the same monotone voice drone on in chastisements was suddenly broken by the first wavering voice and suddenly tear-filled eyes. Grell couldn't help but watch in awe when William began to show the first sign of emotion; it was grief.

Sympathy was all Grell could give to him despite unknowing what truly happened and yet understanding in the simple words he spoke. The hand to his cheek trembled slightly, William was restraining himself as he spoke, lips trembling,"I...I miss her...I miss her so..." And then he threw himself forward, leaning forward while breaking into a mass hysteria where sobs filled the Infirmary. So this was William behind those dark ringed eyes that showed no mercy to neither soul nor reaper associated with him.

Undertaker let out a groan of displeasure, he gave a disgusted expression, even sticking out his tongue like a child. Alan shook his head with a sigh as he finished up Ivan's eye and cleaned whatever blood was left. Ivan, who normally would care less about anything that had sentimental value, suddenly became silent as William brawled on in Grell's lap.

The man clenched to Grell's trousers, each wail he let out, Grell's heart tore even further apart.

"He should have just killed her!" William shouted, making Grell jump in place. Grell had his hands up over William's head but then slowly brought them down to caress his hair affectionately, unknowing any other way to deal with him. There was a loud snort, Grell's fingers undid the neatness of William's hair so that he would stroke it. "...he...just kill..."

Undertaker, being unable to concentrate, violently kicked away a chair that was nearby. He stomped over to the two that were huddled together, a menacing snarl came from his twitching lips,"You think you deserve any sympathy after what you done the past three hundred years? !" He grappled William's collar and forced him to sit up. "What you done to those poor thirty-five reapers you've slaughtered like cattle? !" Grell protested as William was forced to his feet by the enraged Undertaker. "What I had to do in order for you to even exist in this damned world? !"

"Undertaker, he's just broken is all!" Grell cried out, getting on his knees and reaching for Undertaker's outstretched arm. William stood limply, his knees buckling and dangling as though they were on him for decoration. "He just needs to be fix-"

"And you!" Undertaker rounded his anger at him. "What makes you think that you can place yourself at equal level to him, hm?" Grell sank down, releasing Undertaker's arm, and whimpered helplessly. "I spent three...three fucking, pain in the ass centuries fixing him! I got us a damn perfect reaper on our hands now but the damn little bastard is a hypocrite! Always ranting on about rules and regulations, the very ones he tore up with his bare hands!" The elder one threw William to the bed, causing him to shriek out from landing on his broken ribs. He pointed at Alan as he stormed out of the Infirmary. "Boy, fix Ivan's wrist and...and that thing's ribs, will you? I need a damn break from-"

"How about you give him a break? !" Alan hurled at Undertaker. "Just because no one hadn't given you comfort it doesn't mean you have to lash out at the two!"

"He's no different than me, since when the hell did he gain the right for condolences? !"

Alan threw down the washcloth into the bowl of water, water splashed all over as he advanced upon his former mentor. "I'm sure there's plenty more reapers out there that had the same story as you and William, they just got different versions of it! Undertaker, stop tormenting Spears! Whatever you two had going on, it needs to stop!" He faced Undertaker, knowing the dangers it posed should he anger the man even further than he already was. Undertaker ground his teeth before bringing up a hand to slap Alan across the face, the smaller reaper was sent to the ground as the door opened, Eric entered to witness the scene.

"Shut up! You lived a sheltered life! The only pain you'll comprehend is the Thorns of Death, boy! Be it that kills you and nothing else!" Undertaker stepped over him, the fact that Eric was coming on to him with a Cinematic Rip remained unknown until the blond sneaked behind him and took a hold of his head in a headlock. "What t-"

"I always thought you had a screw loose, now you can have a dozen more."

"Gah!"

Undertaker's agape mouth was met with a Cinematic Rip being shoved inside, the little strip fluttered its last before disappearing in his hot cavern; Eric closed his mouth with another hand and kept it closed should Undertaker attempt to spit it out. The silver reaper trashed in Eric's stronger grip before a strangled scream radiated from his throat. Thrashings grew violent but Eric held fast, Alan lifted his head to watch as he scrambled to his own two feet.

"Eric, not you too! You'll drive him insane-"

"Don't worry, it's only thirty seconds of someone's life!"

"But still...no one should ever be put to that torture...Eric, let go of him!"

"No!"

"ERIC!" Alan shrieked as Undertaker's wide open eyes began to roll back. His hat toppled to the ground and rolled towards the Infimary's door, it brought itself to a slow stop at the toe of someone's boots.

"What is going on here? Had this Infirmary become a madhouse as well?"

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><p>AN: You know, part of me is waiting for Alan to have an attack! I promise you, more chaos will happen later on.

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	24. For One Book

Disclaimer: I don't own Kuroshitsuji

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><p>Heads turned around to see Raoul leaning against the door frame of the doors. Grell let out a surprised gasp, his eyes becoming wide open as the other picked up the top hat and fiddled with the solid band. The man smiled at them, Eric held a firm grip to Undertaker but held his tongue. After all, reactions are the best way to know one's truth. For the time being, Eric put on a face of confusion, though everyone cared less for his expression as Raoul approached slowly.<p>

Undertaker's normally pale face had become a mixture of blue and purple as his eyes threatened to pop from his sockets. His thrashing ceased, Alan gave a whimper and succeeded in relinquishing Eric's grip by shoving him away. The silver reaper fell to the ground, his breath hitching into gasps and coughs; Alan went to one knee and cocked his head to monitor Undertaker. He waved the younger one away as he regained normal breaths, his other and searched around for his favored top hat.

"Mu...Muh..." Undertaker hacked. "...gah!...muh hat! Nngh!" He snorted, his coughs grew louder until he pounded a fist into his chest. It went on for a while until e Rip shot forth from his mouth, along with a bit of bile. "...ah...hah...good thing...it went down the wrong pipe, eh?" Undertaker brought himself to sit on the floor though Alan thought it'd be proper to stand so he did, with a little help. "...thanks, boy..."

As issues cleared up there, Grell still kept eyes trained on Raoul, he felt resentment towards him and yet a fair fondness for him. Raoul's eyes met his, the man stretched out his arms in a way that would seem inviting. He gave toothy grin, though Grell made a face at them being yellow, and he cheerfully said,"Word on the street was that a certain redhead was bunking here in the Library's Infirmary...makes me wonder why you decide to stay here and not the asylum - I mean - hospital down there in town. Was it not to any of your liking?"

No one spoke, save for Alan,"Who the hell are you?"

"Excuse me for my rudeness, yes?" Raoul asked, he bowed deeply, top hat to his chest, head low, cheek to his chest, and best foot forward. Slowly, he stood up strait, prim and proper, to have eyes wander about. "My name...is-"

"Raoul Sylvestre," Grell finished for him,"are you here to take more of my body you freak?"

"Ah, you remember now?" Raoul gave a slight frown. "Unfortunately, no. As much as I would love to prod that lovely, supple body of yours, I have a few things to attend to. First thing is that." He pointed strait at the Cinematic Record in Eric's hand. "Give it here and I'll leave this Infirmary be."

Eric glared at him. The first sign of hostility forced Raoul to bring forth a knife, he threw it with great precision strait at Alan; this made a clean entry to his thigh, instantly bringing him to his knees and offsetting the Thorns of Death. Eric immediately dropped the book to the bed and went to Alan's side, Raoul gave a sinister smirk of satisfaction as Alan began his struggle for life with Eric by his side, allowing him to squeeze his hand through the pain. Eric quickly removed the blade from Alan's limp, tossing it far away, and attempted to stop the bleeding with only one hand.

"A fair warning I gave you," he snorted. The man took a hold of the book that was carelessly dropped on the bed and made to leave until the sharp edge of a large, silver blade was an inch away from his nose. "Ah...you must be Undertaker...I heard stories about you...I, myself, am quite a large fan of your work. It makes my work easier."

"I can sense you're not a reaper, you're just like Starveling," Undertaker spoke darkly with malicious intent in his voice. It was a bit scratchy but it made him sound more intimidating, Raoul winced slightly. "I've been out investigating Cinematic Rips for a good two years, a bit of an interesting technique you've had...leaving them out in the field and for reapers to unsuspectingly pick them up and grow mad. And also having Starveling assign false souls on the To Die List to have reapers, obviously an inside job."

Raoul gave an approving nod, looking defeated. "And you had someone interpret the Rips, yeah?"

"That's right, that's right...a human being here would only mean that you're the one behind all those Rips. Gives a good reason why some reapers got sent to the loony bin. Too bad for you that I've been monitoring those Rips, should have stopped your plans right?"

"Noticed that...always good to have a back up plan. You should know, I have other works."

"So you decide to play doctor to reapers? You do a special 'work' to them when you capture any. I believe Starveling mentioned Grell being involved. Tell me, why is he of any importance to you?"

Raoul smiled to him, then he chuckled while giving a shake with his head. "Samantha was...always one to ruin the fun. Grell was an interesting specimen to handle. I switched his eyes for human eyes, a complicated process...took me a month to make sure he was well adjusted to bring back to your world. I'll admit, he is the first from the London Division I've taken-"

"Liar!" Alan shouted as Eric struggled to help him. "You took Heather!"

"Oh, I remember...her. A good girl...very good."

"That's enough out of you...so you're the cause of Heather's disappearance. Richardson wouldn't stop brawling for a month," Undertaker giggled morbidly,"had him in me shop whenever I was making a casket for the little girl...always fun to see him cry." He stopped giggling at 'fond' memories. His grip hardened on the handle of the sickle. "Tell me...what the hell have you been doing for the past five years?"

"...if I can remember...when we find a certain reaper going and they strike our, what's the term?...fancy? Yeah, if they strike our fancy then I ask Samantha to take them home to me. And thank God for the Everto having a faster time than here or we would've been caught. We change a few body parts, maybe even souls, then leave them here in this world. So far, I exchanged every single soul of a few hundred reapers in this Division...I did all of them save for two, Lacey Perkins and Grell Sutcliff...a good majority of the reapers who find the Rips are lucky to have been taken in, the rest just grow mad with Rips lodged to their souls...I spent quite a while on this Division, it's so large you see...I had to think of a way to make this implode on itself good...real good. What's more better than to have neighbors attack neighbors, hm?"

As if on cue, screams resonated from the Library's halls, Undertaker threw a glance at the doors, then waved at them. They slammed shut as a stool came to hook the two hinges together. More screams came about, the sound of engines went off to indicate death scythes were at use. Just as Raoul was about to speak, Undertaker drew back his scythe ever so slightly in a threatening manner. "And you expect the Division to fall apart?"

"I gave a clear order to anyone I've touched that if they sense me in the area, they would do what I asked them to do...which is to massacre every reaper in sight..."

"So if you touched Grell, then why isn't he murdering any of us?"

"Ask him." Raoul have airy wave to Undertaker and began to shift about, his body was fading away into nothing but smoke. "I only came here to get what is mine...so much work for a worthless book."

Undertaker immediately took a swing with his scythe, a sad attempt to decapitate him was failed when the blade whipped through the smoke. "Come back, bastard!" But the only reassuring damage Undertaker could suffice on was when blood appeared on his blade. "...hn...a waste of time and energy for him to come all the way here..." He cleaned his scythe with a bed sheet while turning attention towards Grell. "Care to tell us why you're so deeply involved in this?"

Among the shrilling screams that rang through their ears, Grell could only have his mouth agape as though everyone in the room was some sort of unearthly creature. His eyes rapidly moved from Undertaker and worked slowly to William. The said reaper had eventually came to his senses when he took off his glasses to clean them, he placed them back on and stared up at the redhead. He spoke in a quiet voice,"Sutcliff...answer him."

"I...I..." Grell ruffled his hair. "Will, so much happened, it would take a month to tell you!...all of you!"

"Just...just say what you think is important then."

Eric had helped Alan to the nearest bed, the brunette had seemingly passed out during Raoul's visit. He looked out the windows and gave a warning,"Hurry the hell up because we're starting to run out of time."

"Since when did we get time?" Grell threw at him, Eric pointed at the door.

"Those psychotic reapers just painted the town red the past twenty minutes. Won't take them any longer to get up here. So either we stay and get butchered while listening to Grell or we get out of here as soon as possible."

There was a sickening thud from the window that was situated where Ivan laid. It even made the American jump and sit up from where he was; he turned and saw a mutilated body splattered on the glass, organs, skin, and flesh stuck as a majority of the carcass slid off. Undertaker gave a nervous chuckle when the other windows became coated in blood and flesh, it blotted out the sunlight in the Infirmary and left them in a darker room which only red seemed to light the area.

"Slingby, since when did you understand what the madman said?" Ivan asked, he glared at the blond who ignored him by giving another warning,"Those bodies aren't a good sign, y'know! At some point, some damn reaper's gonna break a window!"

"...Raoul was right," Undertaker murmured as he began to calculate what was happening outside. With windows blocked, it was impossible to observe was happening. "...this place had become a madhouse..."

"No time for jokes!" Eric barked at him. "We need to get-"

And so, the doors crashed in its hinges as those on the other side began to break it down. A few moments passed and the wooden threshold flew out of place, striking Undertaker first due to being the closest though the older reaper swung his scythe, cleanly slicing the doors to pieces. The sound of engines and blades running resounded in the Infirmary as three intruders stepped in. Undertaker kept in a defensive stance but then slowly relaxed at the sight of who stood before him.

"...ah, it's only you...glad to see you alive and well..." Undertaker smiled, his scythe lowered but at the same time, the three Council members he spoke to dropped dead with their own death scythes lodged into their backs. "...my...that's not good..." He poked at each of the sickles' handles.

"The fuck have I told you? !" Eric shouted, angered by being right.

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><p>AN: Sorry for the shortness...don't worry! I'll update again soon! Promise to have more action next chapter!

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	25. It Began on the First of August

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji

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><p><em>Raoul returned to the Everto to find his manor in ruins. He stood in the burning courtyard surrounded by three Elders from the London Division, each had their death scythes out and ready to attack. Blood spurted from his right arm, making it lame and unusable for future operations and fights. Damn Undertaker. He leered at them, he shred off his black coat and ripped apart a leeve to wrap around his wound, it was a sad attempt to stop the bleeding. He was wounded by a death scythe after all.<em>

_"You're under arrest for assault against the Divisions of France, Germany, Spain, and Romania!" shouted one of the Elders over the chaos, Raoul panted, his wound failed to mend itself; he feared Death was coming to collect him, he gritted his teeth, he was going to resist. Another Elder had gotten to cautious and slashed out at him, Raoul leaped back to avoid it just by an inch. "Surrender, we freed the reapers you've held captive for so long!"_

_"Are you mad? !" Raoul screeched to him. First the wound from Undertaker, then his manor and laboratories and works are falling to ashes, and now the unstable reapers he had worked on for so long were now running amok in the Everto. No, he wasn't ready to release **those** reapers yet. "Damning this world, the Human World, and your own...where's your sense of peace? Some of the ones you let go aren't supposed to be out! They'll murder all of us!"_

_He suddenly lost his mind. Now the long, hard twenty years of labor had suddenly came to an abrupt stop. He hadn't even finished what he originally started!_

_Raoul advanced towards the closest Elder, snatching away the sickle with such speed that the others were too stunned to keep up. A feral, inhuman roar came forth from the man's mouth as he barreled to the right and kicked off the ground. He swung the heavy scythe in a circle and embedded it into the back of the first Elder; he released the scythe and came after the second, who tried to send away his weapon. Obviously, the cunning, almost demonic, sprint overwhelmed him as Raoul wrenched the sickle and leaped up with the weapon overhead._

_The man waved the scythe at the Elder's unguarded backside until the tip (and eventually a quarter) of the blade dug into his spine. With an anguishing cry, the Elder reaper stood in place, unmoving. Raoul landed ungracefully behind the standing body and whirled around to face the last reaper._

_"...do you have a purpose in all of this?" he asked Raoul, he quickly learned that he was no match for him; speed was never on his side for his particular feeble body. His silver hair had been singed and slightly stained with blood. With the things he witnessed in the building that he and the other two had worked to burn down, he was ready to convey the message to anyone willing to read his Cinematic Record. Raoul approached him, staggering in his heavy steps, labored breaths came with his reply,"Your bodies are valuable...so powerful...so ever lasting...imagine what I can do..."_

_Morgan was the Elder's name, he was the Eldest of the Council and served as adviser; he played his role as being the wisest among them. But age to his old soul had taken a toll to his body, rendering it weaker than most. It was a wonder how he continued to collaborate with the Council the past hundred years. He was wise enough to know that his end was near, he was willing to embrace it by going out with laughter, a medicine that cured his disabilities every once in a while,"I doubt you would want my body...ever."_

_He inched for the Elders that still stood with feet planted in the same positions as the had died standing in. He dropped forth his death scythe to Raoul's feet as he placed a hand on two shoulders and kept his eyes on him._

_"You look so much like William," he commented,"besides...his body would be more useful than mine."_

_Raoul easily took up the sickle with his good arm, but it was heavier than the other two; the blunt end of the sickle dragged against the ground as he neared him slowly. "Smart move you did."_

_Morgan shrugged and clutched the shoulders of his dead friends tightly. "Before you slay me...what is the use of your experiments? I ended your line of work, the reapers have escaped for their homes, and the demons are coming to collect any soul you kept for yourself...younger reaper will come to take my place and take you down. It won't hurt to tell me...why you do this..."_

_"Why?" Raoul asked, Morgan nodded once more. "I have to save her."_

_"Ah, I see...all for love then...a good cause you have," Morgan chuckled warmly as he watched him leap high above him,"go ahead...do it-"_

_As he neared the Elder, Raoul swiftly asked,"Have you found Heather and Knox?" _

_Morgan looked at him curiously,"Who-"_

And then the Cinematic Record was cut off.

Undertaker gave a low pitched whistle as Morgan's memories ended with a blank reel.

"Morgan was always one to do the surprising acts," Undertaker praised him,"He must've used Shadow Water to bring him and the other two back here right before he died...smart man, smart man...tut, tut...better get going, yes?" He glanced back to see Eric carrying a sleeping Alan on his back while William and Grell finished reviewing the other two Elders' Cinematic Records. He turned around fully to see Ivan dressing himself. "You sure you want to be out and about running?"

"I can see fine, I'm just worried about my horses in this chaos," he grunted as he threw on his coat that was clad with numerous war medals. He summoned his bullwhip and had it wrapped around his hand for security. "Sylvestre mentioned something 'bout some reapers that ain't 'posed to be loose...don't slow me down, a'ight?" His hand tore the makeshift eye-patch Alan fixed to his face, it revealed that his eye was completely healed, as was his wrist.

Eric snorted,"Aren't you a cocky bastard, bet you don't know where you are."

"Damn strait I know!" Ivan snapped at him. "I'm...I'm..."

There was a quiet giggle from Grell,"Oh...all of you, shut it right now." He brought forth his death scythe and pointed it strait at the door. "Before you guys decide to tear each other apart, watch out for the reapers that have machinery for death scythes. He chose those kind to switch souls and body parts with since he wanted...reapers that can rip anything to pieces in ten seconds."

They all gave a quick nod and walked over the dead bodies of the Elders, Undertaker, being the head and peeking around the corner, held out a hand to give a signal to pause. He pointed at William and beckoned him to come, the supervisor was hesitant but complied and came over to him when they stopped at a corner.

"...how're you feeling?" Undertaker grumbled to him, William stared at him as if he were a madman.

"What?"

"Your ribs, how're they?"

"...they're alright." William unconsciously rubbed a hand on where it hurt before. "...alright. They're fine."

Undertaker glanced back at the group and calculated several ways to get out of the Library alive. "I left Ivan's cart in the Execution Circle. Blocked off, yes? Issue is, I know how to lock the gates but I don't have the key to unlock them. Supervisors are given keys to the Execution Circle." William groaned in frustration and fixed his glasses. He tried to button his dress shirt but found the buttons to have gone missing, Undertaker snickered slightly but managed to hide the smirk. "Heh..."

"And you expect that I'd have it...you idiot..." Undertaker shrugged but gave a tiny grin. "...it's in my office, I can't go by myself. My death scythe's missing. I'll die with out it-"

"Alan got it," Eric explained, he summoned his own death scythe and tossed it to William despite the extra weight he carried,"here, use mine. I think he sent yours away for safe keeping."

William caught the saw and have a slight disapproval, Undertaker knew the younger one hated hand-to-hand combat. "Very well, I thank you, Slingby."

"Can we just get the hell out of here?" growled Ivan, Undertaker nodded.

"We'll do that...well...let me think," Undertaker murmured to himself,"...hnmmmmm...hnnnnn...ah! Grell, go with William, ensure he has extra protection! Heh heh..."

Grell gave an offended look. "Will? I protect him? God forbid, it should be the other way around!...I am a lady after all!"

"He's placing you with William so that he'll have protection," Ivan snorted,"the Switched reapers go after ones that don't have a machine for a death scythe. Now..." He walked away from the group. "I say we fight to live, not that we are a alive to begin with." His scythe was unwrapped and held tightly in his free hand. "I'm not gonna waste time. Let's hurry it up...my horses might get killed out there."

Undertaker walked along with him, he waved at Eric to fallow as he said over his shoulder,"Meet us at Execution Circle within the hour. I assure you, Ivan, that a friend of mine is watching over your horses, we just need to get there before he dies."

"Don't tell me Executioner's there," Eric said as they traversed on their own, separating themselves from Grell and William. Grell's brows furrowed and he gave a frown. There were rules set in place in their world but if heavy violations were repeated constantly, the Council will hand the reaper to Executioner, a man who served as a foil for Undertaker in the Reaper Realm. He was the ones who gives bodies to Undertaker after dealing with them. Grell met the man once in person during an execution, and it was not a fun experience since he was offered to him.

He had a contraption that modeled a human guillotine, though it lacked a fixed blade that would cleave off the head. Yes, it was meant to slice the head off a reaper, but it required that reaper's death scythe to be hooked to the contraction. How he managed to attach said weapons was something Grell didn't bother to care for. For now, the redhead pushed the thoughts out of his mind as he and William began a sprint for his office. Fortunately, it was close by, being a few corners away from the Infirmary.

Their dress shoes and heels clicked and tapped the marble flooring as they neared William's office, the said owner of the room stretched out a hand so that he would open was relieved to find it intact, as indicated by his relaxed sigh, when he entered. Grell fallowed and made sure to close the door, he locked it and switched on the lights on a nearby light switch as he watched William come to a cabinet and opened it.

It was a quiet moment between them as Grell watched him scour through numerous keys of the Library and various places in the Division. He was worried for William, the only two hours ago he was ready to murder Ivan within a second, then he had suddenly shown weakness to Grell by brawling for moments on end, never ceasing until Raoul had left; it was only now that, two hours later, William was back to his normal, cold, distant self. _He opened up to me, just a little bit...but...why does it last for a few minutes?_

"Will?" Grell asked quietly, his migraine had subsided and was replaced by a flood of events that occurred within a month's time. He waited for William to answer back but as he waited, he wondered exactly what he was going to say. Was he going to ask William of his inner self or was he going to explain what happened between Raoul and himself?

The reaper startled him by answering with a curt,"What?"

"Oh...um...nothing-"

"If you wish to speak, tell me what Raoul involved you in."

"Right! Um...but is it that hard to kind one key?" Grell asked, head tilting to the side as he strode over to William's desk and sat himself on it. William gave him a blank expression as he opened th cabinet's door wider; there were at least a million keys inside. Surprisingly, they lacked order. "Exactly how do you live with that?"

William turned and went back to his search while grumbling,"I just never liked keys."

Grell nodded and then leaned back in his seat on the desk. "Oh...alright. So...where should I start?"

"My office two days ago, you came in happy and giddy like you always were when I gave you one soul to reap. Five minutes later, you come as though you went through Hell and back. You looked utterly unpresentable."

Grell gave a nervous laugh under his breath. "Oh...it started with a dream. You see, Samantha drugged my tea when I came back to my office. I feel right asleep and dreamed about doing that mission on my own. In the mission...it was going smoothly until a hand came to mine held to it. At first I thought it was a cruel joke but...then I realized it was a nightmare!"

William looked over his shoulder. "Seriously...a nightmare?"

"Samantha takes her victims through their dreams..."

-...-

-Two Days Ago-

William gave Grell his soul collection for the evening and, much to the red reaper's joy and happiness, it turned out to be one soul. Grell stayed for a minute or so chatting with the supervisor happily, giggling and the commodities he purchased from London but then brunette nodded him away, he even held up his death scythe as a warning to shut it and leave. The redhead sighed and gave him a bright smile while saying,"Will shouldn't treat women that way, it's barbaric."

"Get out," William ordered,"I want the report by tomorrow morning if you think it's such an easy job."

"I'll do anything for you, darling...just not overtime~!" he sang as he bounded out of the office. Ronald passed by, giving him a wave, but he ignored by the redhead that skipped along the hallways happily. He entered his office and placed the folder on the desk, not bothering to review who's soul it was. He knew it was a girl's but he never fancied reading off Cinematic Records of children, it sickened him.

Grell sat himself at his desk after placing his death scythe on a hook on the wall. He had himself a cup of tea before he was summoned to William's office, surely by now it had cooled itself, he was only gone for ten minutes at the maximum. He reached out for it and sipped it gingerly as he forced himself to eventually look over the soul he was to collect.

August 1, 1887  
>Heather Humphries<br>Died of shock

Note: Has anxiety

"Must've hyperventilated," Grell deducted out loud,"...she's probably related to Alan...I...I..." He smacked his lips to taste the tea after consuming its contents entirely, he felt fatigued and utterly exhausted as he placed down the cup to its saucer and removed his glasses. He rubbed his eyes and yawned, he placed his glasses nearby and propped his jaw on his hand. He stared at the child's profile once more as his eyelids grew heavy with sleep. Eventually, he slipped out of awareness and drifted off into a deep slumber. Pleasant thoughts filled his head though he inwardly said to himself,'_I think someone drugged me.'_

-...-

_It was a simple mission. A single soul on the To Die List was an easy and fair task for Grell, so easy, he took the List from William's desk without a moment's hesitation. _Just one soul this time, at least it's work I'll get done fast_, he thought when he flew over the rooftops like a gazelle. It was a rare opportunity for a reaper to reap only one soul for a full 24 hours, normally it would be twenty or more at the maximum. Being at Grell's rank, the numbers were higher. And being at Grell's demoted rank, the quantity sky-rocketed to his displeasure._

_It was the dead of night, he spotted a faint glow in the distance and raced towards it; the Cinematic Record was left alone, long enough for the Record to float languidly to the sky. He approached it and landed onto the concrete sidewalk that acted as a doorstep to an alley. He came by an open window where the Record was floating through, the victim was in a building. The reaper hoisted himself on to the windowsill and gracefully slid in with on the sound of his cloak brushing against the wooden pane._

_He felt a sinking feeling, both mentally and physically. A soft, gentle giggle came to his ears and he felt hands, more delicate than his own, lace fingers with his. It felt as though he was standing over water while he watched the Cinematic Record in the room glow more faint and then vanish ever so slowly. Was it a demon? No, it can't be, the presence of a demon's soul was nowhere near him. His scythe appeared at hand and he lashed out at the person holding his own hand._

_He was screaming, wrenching his hand but not releasing the one holding it, but it wasn't the motion that made him scream; it was the fact that his fingers were entwined with a dismembered hand that seemed to clutch his. He began to hyperventilate, the sinking feeling becoming more and more prominent as he searched desperately for the one pulling such a horrid prank._

_His world turned into nothing but blackness._

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><p>AN: Yaaaaay! Flashback time! Sorry, I know I promised action but...enjoy Grell retelling his side of the long anticipated back story to his conundrum! Also, I'm loosing viewers but that's alright...I'll still continue, just please, remember to review if you read this story. Seeing my fan's opinions is always fun to read!

**READ AND REVIEW~!**


	26. It Began on the First of August II

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji

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><p>Grell awoken from the dream with a sharp gasp of musty air.<p>

He found himself strapped to a gurney, its bars were cold and unwelcoming, sharing the same atmosphere in the same room. He groaned and cracked a few bones as he tried to stretch himself free of the slumber in his eyes. His eyes. He opened them, only find his vision was as crystal clear as a pond and not as murky as the depths of the ocean. The candle that illuminated room had wax that was dangerously low, threatening to snuff out any second.

A pair of emerald, green eyes, both vibrant and delicate, stared back at him when looked to his left.

His stomach lurched and his head turned to the other side, his mouth unleashed a large amount whatever was in his innards all over the stone floor.

He heard laughter, he averted his attention and whipped his head to the right to see a man sharing a strong resemblance with William. He lacked the prim, clean image William had, his hair was tied in a loose ponytail though many strands stood out, some even covered his eyes; he pulled back those stray strands to reveal his piercing gray eyes. He wore a white overcoat that seemed to be stained with blood, he looked more like a deranged doctor when Grell watched him laugh.

"...my name is Raoul Sylvestre, I'm a witch doctor from America...you, Grell Sutcliff, are in the Everto."

Grell winced when Raoul reached out to clean the bile from his lips with bloody rag. "Don't touch me!" Grell barked at him, attempting to bite, though Raoul was quick to draw back,"and why the hell can I see? !"

Raoul gave him a sweet smile and replied,"I transplanted your eyes with a human's. You're going to have to stay here a month before I let you go back." He walked over to Grell's legs and undid the leather straps, Grell attempted to kick him but he moved back. "I'll have you know that you lack a death scythe."

"So? I can still kill you!" Grell snapped when both feet were free to move. Raoul undid the wrists and Grell launched himself at the man, hoping to strangle him; Raoul did not hesitate when Grell's hands came to his throat. "How about I give you a damn operation, doctor!"

Raoul gagged slightly as he struggled to speak,"G...G...Grell! N-no! Don't! I...It's only temporary! Pl...y-you kill me...a-and those eyes there...you won't b-be able to see...as a reaper..an...anymore!"

Grell never ceased to harm him but wasn't too clever to realize that the witch doctor had suddenly inserted a syringe to his neck and injected a formula meant to cause temporary paralysis. The redhead instantly froze up, he struggled to move but his body failed to respond. Slowly, Raoul removed the needle and peeled away Grell's vice like grip to his neck. Once the man was released, he rubbed his neck and cleared his throat, he fixed his hair out of habit and disposed the needle to a trashcan.

He took a hold of Grell, seeing how his body failed to respond to his commands but easily bent under Raoul's touch, and carried him out of the room.

"If you don't like this, your eyes, I can always transfer them back...but it would take three months at the most until your body is able to comprehend another procedure."

Luckily, the paralysis didn't affect Grell's speech as he whined,"Well, I don't care, just give them back to me..." Raoul carried him down a spiral staircase that never seemed to end. Grell's new eyes glanced at his surroundings, torches lit the way in the tower as there were no windows. "...where am I?"

"...a long forgotten manor, Grell, a very long forgotten manor. It used to be a Baron's home, I'm very sketchy on the details who but from what I can tell in the Human Realm, it ended very badly."

"You can see this in the Human Realm? Exactly what is this?"

Raoul chuckled, of course the reaper would have questions, every one of them did. He was patient enough to answer the disoriented reaper. "I told you, you are in the Everto. A very special place...it's where demons rest and reside in the Human Realm and yet never actually be there. Whatever happens in the Human Realm effects the Eveto Realm."

What Raoul received from Grell as an even more distorted expression.

"...how can I say this?...both worlds are interlinked. If one were to build a building in the Human Realm, it would appear in this Realm as well...but if the said building were to be destroyed, it would remain here in the Everto since it "died". This place is sort of like...a place where souls uncollected are sent, like a parallel world you can put it..."

"Like those crazy human think up themselves?"

"Exactly. Only it's real." His boots thudded softly against the stonework of the spiraled stairs. Outside, Grell heard the shouts of people who seemed to be fighting. "Don't mind them...anyway, this world is like a safe haven for demons and angels alike from you, reapers, whenever you decide to attack. Most of the residence here are peaceful and only wish to collect souls quietly, but human bloodlines sort of...dismantled that. I care less for that though...if my kind never came upon one of the Gates, the Everto would have been untainted..."

"Wait, so humans can enter this...'Everto'?" Raoul nodded. "But then...reapers can't reap them if you say we can't come here...why am I here?"

"So long as you have those human eyes, you're allowed in. Humans are special cases, they enter and leave whenever they please, so long as they have some sort of magic from demons or any creature in their blood. There's over one hundred and sixty-nine Gates, each are at a specific point of a certain city in the Human Realm, as long as humans develop, the more Gates are created to make human traffics more convenient...hmmmm...but everyone must keep a pocket watch on themselves if they keep switching from Realm to Realm. The Everto is always ahead the Reaper Realm by a month."

"A month? !"

"Every five minutes, but those who originate from the Human Realm don't exactly age fast. You'll grow accustomed to it."

-...-

The minute Raoul took his last step off the stairs, he turned right down a long corridor but then he stopped, he carefully balanced Grell in his arms and managed to pull down the latch holding the door. He entered and the door closed on its own. Grell discovered that the room was more decorated and had more life than the other room that he had first awoken to. The room was alive by the hearth that was lit with what appeared to be an everlasting fire, the same kind used by the Elders in The Hall.

A color scheme was easily shown through the intricate, and delicate, choosing of the colors black and red; Grell always thought of the colors blending oh so well with a certain demon and him, though that romance was always thrown out the window with every encounter. He thought for a minute as Raoul carried him to a four poster bed that had satin curtains, it took Grell a second look to realize they were made from polyester when Raoul laid him down on the bed gently.

Sheets were satin and made from the plushest fabric that seemed to tickle his skin. He suddenly noticed that all he wore was a dressing gown used for patients at a hospital.

"Hey, my clothes!" Grell cried out, he failed to accustom himself of being in a dress in front of Raoul. He was a stranger, he was a freak, he was something he should fear, and Grell knew there was no way in Hell that he could trust him. "Raoul!' And yet he calls him as though he were addressing a lover.

"They are in the wardrobe over there, fresh and new, along with other clothes you may seem to want," Raoul replied as he closed the curtains around Grell,"try to rest for a bit, the paralysis will wear in an hour or so."

_Rest? No shit, I can't move._ From the outside of his canopy bed, Grell heard the oak door creak open and then slam shut, fallowed by the click of a lock. Grell waited patiently for the medicine to wear down, once it has, he was already planning an escape.

-...-

Just as the man promised, within an hour, Grell was given complete control of his body. He shot up from his spot and glanced around, his hand pushed away a curtain so that he may better understand his surroundings. He was still in the same room; the everlasting fire staying, well, everlasting; there were numerous books aligned in shelves though a desk carried a good stack or two; paintings of various depictions from the Christian Religion hung upon the walls though many of the faces were scratched off; a deer head or two hung over the fireplace accompanied by a sword that was kept on display on a stand upon the mantle; various wall scrolls with a coat of arms (representing a Baron's position) decorated uncovered portions of the wall; finally, a large, mahogany wardrobe covered by blue and black laced scrawls was tucked away in the corner of the room.

Grell cautiously stepped out of his safe haven of the bed, his bare feet were caressed by the satin fur of a skinned best sprawled out on the floor. It was comfy and somehow cleared him of his anxiety as he slowly walked to the wardrobe. He felt someone staring at him from behind so he turned, only to find that he was alone with the crackling embers of the fireplace. He shuddered and opened the enormous doors of the wardrobe, only to find that it was nearly empty save for four to five outfits that hung on the hangers. He saw his own pair of high heeled boots together what appeared to be a pair of normal heeled boots at the bottom.

He reached over, tip toeing slightly, and took a hold of his normal outfit. Trousers and dress shirt, vest and bow tie included, were ironed out without a single crease._ Raoul sure is...nice._ The precious red coat, owned by Madame Red, hung separately from his clothes. The warmth of the hearth made him want to stay cooler so he decided to do without it. He grabbed his boots and walked over to the bed, setting his clothing down on the bed.

A minor headache came about, he furrowed his brows as he searched for a mirror to tie his bow but sighed in disappointment to find that the room lacked one. Much to his even bigger disappointment, the room lacked a mirror. _If I had my chainsaw, I could tear through the door and get the hell out of this place._ He was boxed in with nothing to do. Fixing himself with his cosmetics was out of the option, seeing how he was held prisoner, he felt, for the first time, beauty wasn't an issue now.

After a few unguided attempts at fixing his bow, he groaned and simply settled it on the bed while walking over to the desk. He pulled out an old oak chair and sat himself on it, his hand shot out to grab the nearest book to read it but was bombarded by words that were foreign to him. _What the fuck, even the books are in Latin? ! Stupid, ridiculous!_ He unceremoniously dropped it on the table and reached for another book that had the Roman numeral of XVII. Grell snorted to himself and opened it to the first page, only to find that it was part of a long epic, a story, that came in numerous pieces.

_"Kill us not, fair knight," he says,"fir we are poor."_  
><em>And so the knight, enraged he was, had left<em>  
><em>Said poor peasants he sought to have slaughtered.<em>

He had no idea what the plot was, he was tempted to find the beginning, the first book. He scanned through the stacks to find nothing relating to the previous parts; he got up and began to search the bookshelves until his legs bumped into a small form.

"Unph!" Grell looked down and nearly screamed at the sight of a little girl, about twelve, sitting on the floor. Her brunette hair was messy and a bit oily, she smelled as though she hadn't had a bath in a month. She glanced up at him with the eyes of a reaper with a bored expression. "Who the hell are y-, no, what the fuck are you? ! How did you get in here? !"

She continued to stare up at him only to reply,"I'm sorry, miss...should I scare you in such a way. This is my room, I've been here the whole time, you just never looked at me."

"Well, it's my room now, brat," he sneered at her, she didn't flinch,"and what are you reading?" He snatched the book from her and looked over the numerous pages, he nearly gained a nosebleed. It shown a very...ahem, sexual pose and how to maneuver in such a way. "You shouldn't be reading this!" He tossed it at the everlasting fire and watched it burn away.

"...it was on my room. Since you did that to my book, I'm not telling you were the first volume is of that story you were just reading," she said, she pushed herself up to her feet and brushed away the dust off her white dress,"Father says I have to be nice to you though, but this is my room..."

"Oh, so you're Raoul's daughter?" Grell said, slightly shocked; sure the two shared personalities and mannerisms but they lacked any sort of resemblance. If he were to compare her to other reapers, he would want to say she was a miniature replica of Alan. "...not much of his blood in you so far as I can see...what's your name?"

"Heather Sylvestre," she answered as she walked away from him, she was short and had a skinny build. There was a bit of a lag in her steps, as though she carried something heavy. Grell laughed under his breath,"That's funny...your name."

She glanced over her shoulder so that she may better hear his explanation,"Heather...I was supposed to reap a soul with the exact same name. You sort of look like the girl on my To Die List too and..." His smile fell to realization at what he said, he got up from his chair with lightning speed to rummage through his white coat.

Heather rolled her eyes slightly, uttering,"Fool. Samantha confiscated your clothes, she took your To Die List. There's no use...I am that girl you saw, I'm just bait for reapers everywhere." Grell froze, his eyes watching her with a key, she unlocked it and opened the door. He dropped the coat and ran after her before she closed it on him; he wedged a random book between the door and the stonework of the wall to prevent her from closing it. She gave a yelp when he, being stronger, wrenched open the door and tossed the book away.

Grell lunged after her, covering her mouth with his bare hand while grabbing her neck to hold her in place. She screamed in his mouth but he jerked her hard, hissing,"Alright, brat, I don't have time for fun and games. I need to get back to London from wherever the fuck I am before I get raped. You're going to take me to my death scythe...if you do so much as to lead me to Samantha or Raoul, I will strangle you until your eyes pop out of your pretty head, got it? !"

She nodded vigorously, eyes tearing up from fear and anxiety. He instantly released her and she stood in place, crying. He slapped her face.

"I don't have all year, kid!" He snapped, she instantly brought herself to a slow jog despite the sniffles. He fallowed suit, though a portion of his mind doubted that she would do as asked.

-...-

They ran through corridors and eventually down a grand staircase that was split in the middle; Grell carefully trotted down the left with Heather in front. Her sobs had subsided and she remained quiet for the most part. The halls were made of stone and the only color came from the thousands of feet of satin carpet and hundreds of tapestries that bore the coat of arms of whoever used to own the said manor. Grell nearly tripped on the stone stairs as they made it to the bottom. The duo blazed over the carpet, passing by the numerous pillars that supported the upstairs hallway.

He took a little of the time to observe the grand hallway they ran in. It reminded him vaguely of the Phantomhive Manor though it held a medieval air to it; arches appeared every ten feet or so way above their heads, in between the arches were chandeliers that held everlasting candles, each burned bountifully. Larger tapestries hung from the archways, each black with the coat of arms sewn to it.

_It amazes me how they built these kinds of buildings back then._ He pushed the thought out of his head as they slowed to a stop in front a wide set of doors, they were carved with floral designs and had the symbols seen on tapestries etched to it. Heather brought a hand to the golden handle and pulled, the grand doors opened with a large groan to reveal the outside world.

Night had fallen upon the said Everto, Grell hesitated to step out into the courtyard. Without the sun, Grell couldn't see the details of what it looked like for now, he cared less as he struggled to fallow Heather, the little reaper was ducking under branches of the trees and bushes, Grell did the same until he felt something hard nudge his back roughly. He fell forward to the dirt with an "Oomph!" and tried to scramble to his feet.

"Oh no, Avion, not now!" Heather whispered, Grell stared up at her to see by the moonlight that she was scolding someone...or something. Grell tried to get up but was on his stomach. The dirt shifted his shirt up to expose his bare skin to the said creature that Heather called Avion. He felt cold hands on his abdomen, he cried out and tried to kick out at the thing; the form still stayed on him, unmoving despite the many kicks to the chest.

From what his eyes slowly adjusted to, he began to realize that Avion had the form of a man. He was in complete shock when his pants was ripped away from him and another rough hand came to abrade his crotch. Feeling violated, Grell screamed as loud as he could over Heather's pitiful pleas.

He felt the hand wrap around his member and then withdraw, the man that touched him suddenly barked in hid face. Confused enough as Grell was at him, and pretty much the entire situation he had gotten dragged into, he let out an undignified squallier as a voice of a woman shouted,"Avion! Relâchez le lui! Il n'est pas une femme!" ("Avion! Release the man! He's not a woman!")

Grell recognized the language to be French, he spoke back with a whimper,"Dieu merci, tu m'as sauvé, je n'aurais jamais pensé que quelqu'un sain d'esprit serait ici!" ("Thank God you saved me, I never would have thought someone sane would be here!")

A torch lit aflame danced among the ticket, he gained a better visual of the man called Avion. He had white hair, long and shaggy like dog's, red eyes, a mouth that shown a set of sharp canines, and a skin that was paler than Undertaker's. Grell saw his hands and learned he had black nails, he carried a face that would belong to an outright pervert, tongue down and licking his lips sultrily. Grell winced and began to back away from him as Avion barked in his face.

He wore what only appeared to be a gray robe that hung around him very loosely to a point of where it threatened to fall off. A pair of black trousers was all that he wore under, Grell clearly saw the well-toned muscles that seemed to flex with every movement he made; despite his appealing physique, Grell was highly bothered by the only thing that the man could do was bark like the mangy dog he was.

The woman's voice came from under the flame, Grell peered over Avion's shoulder to see a hand fly out at the cuff of Avion's robes and pull him off of Grell. He realized she was a certain receptionist that Ronald flirted and he himself had gossiped to so many times.

"Faites-vous partie de la Division Française? J'ai pensé que j'ai donné des ordres clairs chien de ne pas harceler un d'entre vous. Oh, je suis désolé ... attendez ... vous êtes ... Grell?" ("Are you part of the French Division? I thought I gave that dog clear orders not to harass any one of you. Oh, I'm terribly sorry...wait...you're...Grell?") Samantha asked, all that she wore was a plain, white dress, nothing too fancy nor immodest. It was decent and looked kind of cute on her save for the blotches of dried blood staining various parts of her. She carried a torch that she used to threaten Avion, the man yelped and scurried away. She spoke in plain English to him,"How did you get out of your room?"

Grell sat up, he pointed at where Heather was. "She got me out," he accused, it was a lie because he was unaware she was already watching him escape since he bounded down the stairs. Samantha gave him a curious, practiced expression.

"Who?" She asked. 'There's no one there."

Grell looked to where he pointed to see that Heather had seemingly disappeared. He had wide eyes, oh, he was going to kill the kid whether she was Raoul's child or not. His other hand had fingers that dug into the dirt out of frustration at the child, but seeing a familiar face calmed him. he flung himself at her feet and held to her. "Oh...oh, Samantha, darling...were you captured too? It's horrible here, isn't it? There's a madman raving about how he switched my eyes and that I'm in a far away manor...Samantha, you managed to escape too! Come, let's go home!"

Samantha had a gentle hand through his hair. _He doesn't remember his dream?_ She decided to play along with him but played a passive role,"Grell...we can't leave, it's night time and beyond the walls of the courtyard is a horrible world, horrible...utterly horrible. Lacey, the reaper from Johnston's team, was taken here as well and we tried to escape. I let him go first but then...a demon came out of nowhere and slaughtered him!" She forced tears from her eyes as she sank to his level. He saw the earnest in her eyes and hugged her close, tightly. She held the torch even tighter and away from them as she hugged back with a free arm. "It's horrible, I know...but we need to stay here and wait for Mas- I mean, Raoul to gain favor of us...he only let's his favorite reapers out of these walls to play...go back to where you came from, I..."

"What soul is out here? !" Came a roar from the other side of the courtyard; they recognized it to be Raoul. "Samantha? ! Is that you again? !"

She pushed Grell away from her, she gave a shriek,**"TURN BACK!"**

Scared out of his wits, Grell didn't hesitate nor look back to see what happened, he bolted as fast as he could, remembering which stairs to take and which corridor to dash through. He nearly tripped over his heels as he blocked out the wretched screams that rang throughout the structure. His mouth was slightly open as he panted, he rounded bout the final curve and made a beeline for the room with the open door. He flew in, taking the door with him to slam it shut behind his back.

His heart and mind raced. A friend was out there, she was sacrificing herself for him, the least he could do is obey her request and fallow her advice. He leaned against the door as tears began to form. _Why did I...damn her? She's the only one here...that could help me get out of here alive...and I just left her._ He broke into mourning sobs as he brought himself down to the freezing, stone floor. Grell had never felt this guilty before in his life and damn did it hurt as much as Hell. The smooth skin of his bottom touched the floor, he realized that he lacked trousers when Avion ripped it off. He was in a curled up position when he noticed his partial nudity.

A white sleeve, littered with dirt, went to his eyes to rub them dry as he sniffled and hauled himself to his feet. _I killed her, what would Ronnie think of me now?_ He dragged himself to his bed and plopped himself down while crying even harder.

"You cry funny."

Tearful eyes opened to see Heather standing by his bedside. Out of newborn rage towards the child, he remembered that he swore to kill her the next time he saw her. Shakily, he cried,"Sod off, brat!" He lunged out after her but she ducked away from , he crawled over to peek down, he saw that she had truly disappeared once more. Now he felt truly alone in this maddening world. Heated tears came forth and he pulled the satin curtains of the canopy to sulk once more.

"...William," he murmured while clutched his chest in a fetal position, he tried to think back to the many memories of William to sooth his mind. While he was robbed of his life, his freedom, and his reality, little did he know that he would be ripped away from his precious memories as well.

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><p>AN: Avion means airplane in French. He functions as a Pluto here, so have fun about him! This and the next chapter or so are dedicated to Grell's capture, I'm sure it'll go in depth with the things Raoul does to reapers and also the uses for the infamous drug, Scarlet. Thanks for the support!

Also, check out my newest fics: The Hell of William the Shinigami and The Last Time. Both are centralized around William (one is comedy and the other is angst), poor guy...I just love torturing him now don't I? Worry not, Willu fans, he'll gain comfort and succor later on.

**_READ & REVIEW!_**


	27. It Began on the First of August III

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji

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><p>"Master, I don't feel so right doing this."<p>

_That sounds like...Samantha._

"Darling, darling...do you know how close we are? London's reapers are far more advanced than most...their build is stronger than France, their minds are more civilized than Romania..."

_Damn, it's him too._

Grell heard their voices as he began to stir but he decided to play dead so that they wouldn't stop their conversation. His position was the same as last night's, a little stiff but the same.

"...but...Master, what if this doesn't work?"

"Have no doubts, dearest Samantha...a little longer and then you'll have your child...so cruel the world is to you, have happiness as my own."

"I already picked someone. From the London Division..."

"Yes, yes, and without the needed operation, what would happen? All that effort wasted, yes?"

"...Master, Grell is a man." She sounded so unsure of herself.

"I am aware of that. And you're not a reaper. So stay here, darling..."

The door opened and slammed shut, Grell felt a hand to his hair to stroke. "Ahn..." He faked his rouse from sleep and sat up, he stretched at the sight of Samantha; she sat next to him. He examined her face to see that there was a nasty gash on her cheek. It was treated but lacked bandage to cover it. "...Samantha, what happened?"

"Mas-...R-Raoul," she corrected herself,"he beat me after you ran off. I'm used to it...it's alright-"

"Why do you call him Master?" he asked suddenly, she winced at the darkness in his tone. If she called Raoul her Master, then perhaps he was right to leave her the night before. She sounded too calm when she spoke with him, regardless if she stammered slightly, but they spoke as if they were familiars. Samantha averted her eyes from his fiery gaze, he wanted to beat her himself if he found out she was involved in his abduction. "Samantha-"

She held up a hand to silence him, then she brought it to her chest in a defensive manner. "P...no, I'll explain...just don't...hit me."

"I wasn't going to hit you," he lied dryly, he grabbed the helm of his shirt and dragged it down to cover his intimate region from her eyes. Since the dress shirt was cut short, he saw it fit to go under the covers with half of his body while propping himself up on the pillows. "Come here." His mind ached from the hysteria he endured the night before as he opened up his arms in an inviting manner; she hesitated before crawling over to him and then resting her head in his chest. She curled up near his legs as he cradled her. He caressed her hair in a soothing manner though temptation was too irresistible.

Grell had different intentions once she tells him the despicable truth; he will kill her with his bare hands. He forced his hand to hold still whenever it touched the crook of her neck.

"I'm not a reaper," she started.

"Then how did you avoid detection from the Division then?" He felt her energy was strong whenever he was around her at work but now they were in contact, he felt that energy had left her so suddenly.

"I'm only partial reaper...about a sixteenth or so...when I met Raoul, he knew about my bloodline so he took me in. Without him, I don't know where I would be...probably six feet underground...ugh." She coughed, even hacked her throat, until she spoke once more. "But..." Her accent suddenly faded from English to an American one, there was a bit of hollowness in her voice to show she held a Southern accent. "...wish he left me..."

Grell's eyes widened at the sudden change in her voice. "So you're from the United States then."

She nodded. "Grell...look at my eyes...look at them..."

There was a shift in position and they met eye to eye, he released her reluctantly as she sat up. He stared at her hard and realized something strange about those eyes; they were vibrant and lovely, ringed slightly emerald and glistening like the fresh fire from a drought. And it hit him...

"You have my eyes."

"And you have mine-"

...so he hit her, hard.

She didn't make a single noise, much to his disappointment. She flung herself to his legs and curled up, trembling in fear of him. He glared at her, nostrils flaring with rage in which something he possessed became someone else's. He was about to bend over to reach and strangle her but paused when she murmured,"Do it." He slowly reclined back on the pillows, she whipped herself up to face him in a demanding manner. "Are you going to hit me?"

The nasty gash to her face contorted with her expression of challenge as she began to breath heavily. She suddenly broke into a mad grin, it began to frighten him.

"You think you're a damn women, don't you? You just hit me...like a man would-"

"Because you have my eyes!" He yelled at her, now he was the defensive one. She crawled towards him, stalking him, he backed up further against the pillows until he felt his back lightly bump into the headboard. She giggled at his withdrawal. "Give me some space, bitch!"

With his legs free of her weight, he was flexible enough to bring one around and then kick her off and away from him. He was strong enough to send her flying off the edge of the bed, he quickly got up before she had time to retaliate. He remembered he lacked trousers and ran to the wardrobe to quickly fetch a pair. Grell slid them on as she groaned in pain; he sent her flat face against the pelt carpet though he may have opened her gash.

He didn't care if he were acting masculine now, he's been through enough crazy shit to mind how he carried himself. He backed himself against the wall, just right near the fireplace, as Samantha broke into a fit of giggles, soon it became laughter, and then it became a mass hysteria. Her sounds pitched in frequency and hitched every time she rasped for air; he couldn't tell if she were crying or laughing now through the mixture. _The fuck is wrong with her?_ He glanced around and searched for an object to defend himself with. He remembered the sword that was on display upon the mantle.

As he snatched it from its stand, Samantha continued to shriek louder against the pelted floor. Grell's grip on the leather hilt wavered slightly but he pulled himself together when she cried. Just as she was about to push herself up, the door flew open, Grell shrieked at the sudden break of the chaos and charged at the unlucky bastard who startled him. He held the sword above his head, he was never one for swordplay or fencing so it was sort of unnatural for him to wield a blade.

The man immediately sidled to the side, Grell missed it mark and embedded his sword into the door instead. Raoul shook his head and kicked Grell to the other side of the room while shutting the door. Grell's world spun as he rolled strait towards the fireplace, his hair was only inches away from the flames as he groaned and clutched his stomach. He wanted to vomit over the sudden movements and screams from Samantha.

He watched Raoul get to his knees and pull Samantha up into a tight hug, her laughter slowly became uncontrollable sobs.

Raoul attempted to comfort her, whispering incoherent nonsense to her so that she would slowly lull herself to sleep.

Grell stayed to the floor, frozen in fear of what would happen next. The man sat on the floor and cradled her in his arms in a way a lover would. Grell, feeling nauseous, broke the silence in fear. "What the fuck is wrong with that bitch? !"

"Excuse her...she's a bit insane-"

"Insane? ! She's a fucking...a fucking psycho! Shit! Fuck, I don't care if it takes a month to get adjusted to these eyes, I'm going home and I'm going home now!" Grell scrambled to his feet and sprinted for the door until Raoul's calm voice came from the other side of the room.

"There are many more of her out there, Grell...I wouldn't want you to try and run about...go to your bed and rest-"

"Rest?" Grell exploded. "You expect me to rest when you watch me in my sleep? !" He shuddered. "I'm not staying here!"

"Will you stay here if you know you're safe?"

"...Hell no-"

The minute he said the word and blinked his eye, Raoul was standing right in front of him, their faces were too close for comfort. Grell could catch the scent of alcohol in the other's breath as he drew closer. A hand went to slam against the wall behind him, just barely missing his head, as Raoul bore his teeth. "I can just end it all for you here, right here and now...but I'll give you a fair warning, reapers that had a human life go somewhere that's not exactly pleasant."

"As long as it's not here, I don't care!" Grell shouted in his face, Raoul's lips twitched.

"...there's a damn good reason why I picked you, Grell," Raoul growled deeply,"only because I know you won't be missed."

"I will so!" Grell was ready to fight him but he suddenly fell weak under his glare. He seen it before, it was the kind that made him melt to his knees whenever it was set upon him. He shook and he faltered. Raoul gave a satisfied smirk.

"I see it in your eyes, you know you wouldn't be missed. You want to kill her, don't you?"

Those brilliant eyes shifted to the corner to indicate Samantha, Grell nodded.

"Because she told you?"

Another nod. _God, I've seen it before._

"There's a good story behind her...much like a certain Madame Red you knew."

A hand went to the latch to Grell's side and the door creaked open to reveal the sword embedded into wood was still there.

"Care to listen?" He smiled sweetly, almost too sweetly. Grell wanted to make a run for it but those eyes kept him in place. Again, Grell nodded meekly. "Good choice."

Raoul withdrew and Grell fallowed casted a glance over his shoulder to the room.

"Don't worry, she'll get over it."

-...-

"I found her in the bayou back in Louisiana...broken...mind, body, and soul," Raoul began, he walked side by side with Grell but kept a hand to his shoulder to be sure he wouldn't run away. Grell hated him, he didn't want contact with him and with so many opportunities to flee, he tried to make do. But that hand was always there to tether him to Raoul. Escape tasted too close to be but was too far to grasp. "Asked what happened to her. God bless her, she was like a kitten."

They strode down the corridors at a leisurely pace, Grell squeaked when the grasp began to claw into his muscle. He never responded to Raoul as he went on.

"...fell in love with a boy. They wanted to have a life together but her father says not until he fights in the Civil War; her father loved his slaves, made profits offa them. Course, boy goes off to fight and he comes back after doing time for Uncle Sam. Wedding was gonna happen but he was called up for duty. Boy leaves her and then never came back."

He chuckled slightly.

"She got herself a letter statin' that he died in combat. Oh...but every man in town was after her, and they all came back alive. She was the prettiest little lady there...one day, her father went off to go fetch his plantation more slaves. She was all by her lonesome when one of those men came by and took her. I don't mean kidnap, I mean violated her. Eventually, she had nothing else to do, he forced her to marry him. Next thing she knew, she was a bastard's wife. She didn't like that, the guy was a well known rapist, yeah? Even went after her father's slaves when eyes were somewhere else..."

They emerged into the grand staircase, Grell attempted to run this time; he kicked back and then leaped over a railing. He looked back to see Raoul had disappeared, he kept his guard up but then ran strait into something since he failed to focus on what was ahead of him. Grell bounced down to the floor at the force and looked up to see Raoul standing there, shaking his head in disappointment.

"You're not letting me go, are you?"

Raoul sighed,"No...what about you?"

"What?" Grell began to scoot back. The warming tone in Raoul's voice changed to something disturbing, something that one would use to advance upon someone else; like a predator. There was the word, predator. Raoul stalked closer with every inch Grell went back.

"What was your life?"

"...I'm not telling you, so what? Samantha is a nutcase, she doesn't benefit me in life in any way. I don't care if she became your little slave, it's women like her that can never saved saved."

Raoul chuckled and offered a hand. "Come, Grell...let's go back to your room. Your medication is needed."

"Medi- I'm not trusting you!" He slapped the hand back. "You could be drugging me even worse than I am now!"

"Worse? Might I remind you...if you don't take the medicine, you'll see what Samantha saw. After all, you have her eyes...you can say you'll suffer from hallucinations, the Scarlet is the only known cure from those memories. Come, come...how long have you been awake? An hour?" He reached towards Grell once more. "Samantha's memories will replay in the next half hour or so, you'll be seeing things from her point of view-"

Grell scrambled to his feet. "N-no!" He made a mad dash for the door once more. "You damn freak, I can't trust you!"

-...-

William rested himself against the cabinet. He had never found the key yet and a break was what his strained mind needed. His eyes settled on Grell's own to see that those dull orbs sparkled with a tint of sadness. "Let me understand this...those eyes you have now are Samantha Starveling's, correct?" Grell nodded. "So you were only given the Scarlet for the sole purpose of repressing whatever those eyes saw in a life before." He watched Grell fumble for the pill dispenser and pop three pills. "But at the cost of using the Scarlet...you loose part of your own memories as well."

Grell gave another nod and fiddled the pills in his hands.

"Her memories resurface at times, so yes, the Scarlet does, in a way, wipe them free from my mind. Temporarily of course...eyes are windows to one's soul...so when I was given her eyes, of course I would see part of her soul, therefore...I saw her memories play out from time to time. The longer I refused the Scarlet, the more the memories came up in my mind. It was the only way to cope with whatever horror Samantha went though, frankly, I don't care what happened to her. I'm not taking these pills, I think...I can cope with her terror now." He threw the pills across the room into the waist basket near the door. "Hurry up, Will...get the key."

William gave a sigh and closed his eyes. "Give me a minute...I'm feeling a bit dizzy."

The redhead hopped off the desk. "Then let me search."

"Be my guest." William stepped away. "It has the London Division's symbol on the handle. Are you sure you don't need the Scarlet?"

"N...no," he said thoughtfully,"Will..why ask?"

"Give it to me. I think I need them now. There are certain things I want to forget at the moment."

Grell held the pill dispenser between his pinkie and ring fingers in his free hand, reluctant, he gave it to William. The dark haired reaper examined them before taking three pills and then swallowing them whole. "The greatest pain one would ever face are emotions," William quoted as he swallowed his saliva several times,"get the key before I forget what you said the past ten minutes."

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	28. It Began on the First of August IV

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji!

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><p>Days passed on in that eternal world that Grell was held captive within. He stayed in his room, more or so, he preferred to stay there. Samantha would come by to visit, though she would always be accompanied by that little girl, every so often to give him his medication. How would Grell have fallen victim to the Scarlet so soon? It was only the hour after Raoul told him of Samantha's eyes did he suffer the visions he saw with those dull colored eyes.<p>

When Grell was, forcefully, taken to his room by the tower, he began to hear things, see things not meant pleasant to the soul, regardless being human or god; it was probably never meant for him to witness in the first place. As Raoul manhandled him down the hall, he felt those leather fingers turn to claws and dig strait into the supple flesh of his arms and neck. He screamed bloody murder as he tried to wretch himself away from the awful being. Alerted by this, Raoul shouted for Samantha as he and the redhead struggled to fight.

She came to with the medicine in tow and, as Raoul pinned Grell against the wall, shoved the said medication to his mouth; only half an hour in such an uncomfortable position did Grell regain his right of mind. Slowly, the redhead surrendered and grew compliant to Raoul's request after being released. He sulked into his room and shut the door without speaking.

"Here, Grell, take it...else you start seeing things."

It was the eighth of August, since Grell had managed to keep track of the said time, when Raoul finally decided to show his face to him. Grell sat upon the bed dressed in unwashed clothing, his hair greasy and ragged from the lack of shower, and his skin paler than usual due to food being unavailable. He was reading the fifth volume of that strange story he had managed to find the other day, but frankly, being under the Scarlet Effect, he failed to remember the recurring theme of the story.

Raoul offered him the three pills, he stood at the edge of the bed.

He wore only a pair of black slacks and donned a white collared dress shirt that seemed a size too large for him.

Grell looked up from his book. "...you know...I hadn't eaten in a while..."

He quickly took the medicine and swallowed it. Resisting the dosage resulted in his sanity being compromised.

"You've been a...an agreeable person to be with, more reasonable than the other reapers-"

"You speak of other reapers and yet I never see them. Makes me wonder if I'm the only one here." Raoul sat down next to him. "You realize that I only have a day left before my stomach eats my own soul for nourishment..."

"Ah, so reapers last a week without food? Amazes me how you kept track of time...the Scarlet doesn't let take away your memories to that extent though, so that makes sense."

The man reached over to touch Grell's face, caressing it softly in a way a lover would. Grell made a threatening gesture with his lip, a little more to the right then the man would loose a finger or so. Raoul slid his index finger to his eyelids and tested if the eyes were implanted correctly, stretching the skin in various directions before letting go. He gave an approving nod. "You, my dear Grell, can do several chores for me if you want your food."

"Working me like a dog then...I can't see the difference between you and William now," he snorted.

"It's easy labor, all you have to do is deliver some...things to the ocean, understand?"

-...-

Grell found himself staring at the bloodied corpse that was carelessly dropped into the wagon with countless others underneath. Either distorted in features or body, Grell was forced to witness this under that man's supervision. He stared up and waited for another corpse to fall out of the window high above him. He saw Raoul's face pop out, his tap hat fell over Grell and landed on top of his face. The redhead growled and tossed the hat away out of anger.

"Oh my, my hat!" He exclaimed from his high tower.

The sea breeze picked up and the hat blew off into the distance, the man barked,"Go get it!" Grell glared up at him, only to have shards of glass cascade towards him, he scurried off to give chase to the hat as another body came falling out of the window, this time, landing on top of Grell since it was intentionally thrown at him. Bones popped and the redhead howled before collapsing to the ground, unmoving.

"Grab him before that bastard gets to him!"

"He's running down the tower, right?"

"Yes, just grab him, damn it!"

"Oh my, they were right about London Division reapers...how strong he is!"

He awoke at the sight of a bearded man that seemed to lack the knowledge of personal space. He groaned before squirming about in a makeshift bed. His eyes open wider as the man withdrew, giving him air. Grell brought a hand to his face to rub it, the side of his head was sore to the touch and throbbed in pain. He groaned once more and managed to sit up, bumping his head against a wooden object.

"Best you be careful, Red," warned the bearded man, Grell leered at him when he felt skin contact, he leered and snarled,"Don't touch me!"

"Saying that to us? We saved...what's the term? Saved your ass!" A woman huffed, both she and the man had a thick French accent to their tongues but spoke fluent English. Grell's eyes lowly adjusted to the dimness of a compact room. Judging by the barrels and wine racks, Grell was situated in a wine cellar. He found himself in a very lengthy barrel surrounded by worn down rags and pillows that lost their feathers. He slowly lifted his head once more, this time, bumping it softly against the hardwood. Grell kicked around in the small area but the man held his legs sown.

"Shush, Red, he might hear us-"

"So what?" Grell struggled in the barrel until his feet found the bottom panel; he kicked it and managed to shoot himself out of it. He dusted himself and ran dainty fingers through his hair as he scoffed at the pitiful sight of the two. They were both dressed in dresses that were sewn poorly by hand, sullen looks were to their faces though they looked well fed. Perhaps there's a kitchen around here. Well fed meant food was nearby. His stomach growled and the bearded man laughed to himself.

"Starving? Here." The man, who was squatting by the barrel that Grell slept in, sat upon a stool and reached behind several crates to pull out a clothed bundle. He placed it on the ground and undid the bow. At the sight of the fresh food before him, Grell forgotten his womanly manners and instantly dove for the nearest loaf of bread, instantly scarfing it down his throat after two bites. His frantic hands reached for another piece and he ate it as well.

As he feasted for himself, he heard the pop of a cork. The woman spoke,"I don't know if you drink, but this is all we have. Either build a tolerance or die."

Grell's hand reached for the uncorked bottle and he downed a good tenth of the contents.

_"N'a jamais su que les manteaux rouges peuvent manger tellement..."_ ("Never knew Red Coats can eat so much...")

_"Ils sont comme des porcs,"_ ("They are like pigs,") the woman snorted.

"You know I can understand you," Grell said with a mouthful of cheese and bread, he drank from the wine once more and sighed, his stomach now full. Yes, gods can live without food, water, or even sleep but those who lived human lives have such limitations cut short to, well, a human in which limits are set to their bodies. The two were in shock when he bared his shark-like teeth to them. "As much as I'd love to thank you, I need to get out of here...is there a way to get out of here?"

They erupted into full out laughter, Grell pouted with the bottle held loosely in his hand as he crossed arms.

"You think you can just up and leave? Pft, if it were that easy, we wouldn't be here!" the woman giggled, Grell glared at her. "We'd be back in Paris counting souls and slaying angels for sport!"

"So you're reapers?" Grell asked, his tense emotions lessening to that in which he was relaxed and more composed. He assessed their appearance and confirmed that they did have the eyes of reapers. "...how long have you been here?"

The bearded man looked thoughtful for a second in the candle light, he scratched his beard and a few lice came crawling out. Grell grimaced as he spoke,"Lost track...what day is it?...in London?...the last time you were there?"

"August 1...yeah, August 1...1882...no, 1887, yeah. That's right."

"We've been here to long then," the man sighed, the woman gathered the cloth and folded it neatly to put into the pocket of her dress,"suppose our Death Scythes have already been ground down to make Scarlet by now...no use in fighting the bastard anymore." He pointed at Grell. "You ought to know...you're not the only one to be here from London, only been a few days of you here in the Everto, yeah? Just a few days in London and you'll be seeing Hell unleashed in your Division..."

Grell stared at him curiously. "What do you mean?"

"He's saying that London doesn't have that much time left to reap. Raoul's planning to switch a few souls in a month after he's done experimenting on you...using the Scarlet is a way he could repress memories until they are lived through reapers and-"

"Helena, you shouldn't tell him that much..."

"...but..."

"Helena!" He warned her sharply. She became quiet. "Red, that's enough to hear from us. Get out of here! Before you get us discov-"

A door flew open, the sound of Raoul's daunting boots pounded away at the stonework. Helen screamed, arms thrown in the air, she suddenly grabbed several bottles and threw them at Raoul as he stormed in waving Grell's death scythe in the air. It roared to life, Grell recognized his weapon's sound and rushed after Raoul.

"Gah! What the fuck? !"

The man wasn't expecting Grell to be there. He was met with a flurry of red, Grell threw a punch to his face and forced him to the ground while grabbing his beloved chainsaw. Now he was out in an open hallway, he grew more secure of himself with extra room to fight. Raoul was flat on his back though he whirled around, getting to his feet and summoning two swords to either hand. Grell was ready to fight him though there was a cry from inside the small wine cellar.

Helen came bursting out of the door with her partner by her side, it was only then that Grell realized why the said swords were brandished; they were meant for the two reapers and no him. Grell bit on his lip when he witnessed Raoul thrust the swords back and impale the two through their hearts. Among Grell's chainsaw, the sound of their screams resonated throughout the entire manor as Raoul threw the swords upwards, the blades embedded into the stone ceiling, leaving the two unfortunate reapers dead and suspended in the air.

"I hated those two...a couple of failed experiments I say...wouldn't you agree, Grell?"

Blood poured from their wounds, raining down upon the two as if to remind them blood was their only hand in trade. Cinematic Records burst forth from their chests and floated endlessly in the space of the hallway as Grell dropped his chainsaw.

Their dresses were hiked up, revealing that they wore no the most disturbing part was the fact that one had the genitals of another. Grell screeched,"OH MY GOD!" as he failed to tear his eyes away from the bloodied mess.

Grell's eyes went wider and he vomited while getting to his knees.

"This place is a fucking madhouse!" He shouted, hands shaking. He looked up again and shouted until his voice went hoarse.

-...-

"After that...I didn't want to go out of that room anymore. I fretted away with the books...I can't look at Raoul strait in the face anymore..."

Grell had managed to find the key. He held it in hand and examined the official seal of the London Division engraved into the fine metal. Intricate floral patters aligned the handle, he presented it to William, who nodded,"That's the right one...let's get out of here then."

"...do you remember what I told you? You just had the Scarlet..." Grell gave him a worrisome look. "...Will?"

William waved away the question. "I'm alright. Took you an hour to talk, I should be fine...ready?" He held Eric's death scythe, he made a displeasing face to it before swinging it with such stealth, he cleanly sliced a leaf off a plant on his desk. Grell nodded as William walked to the door, his hand to the handle. He opened it and walked through, but he turned to see Grell standing there, unmoving. "...Grell, we need to go, they're waiting for us."

"I know...I just...Raoul's insane. What he did to those reapers...me...I want his head for me to paint red!"

"...you'll get your chance at him when you do. Come. The others can't wait ant longer...you can explain the rest of this later."

Grell approached William and glanced around the hallway, among the chaos outside and below the Library's prestige halls, he placed a hand to his cheek. He leaned forward and kissed him chastely before grabbing his hand and dragging him behind.

"W-what! Grell? !" William yelped, surprised by the sudden change in Grell's seemingly calm behavior. William glanced back to see why Grell had been quick to switch demeanor within seconds.

Raoul was right behind them. His front was bloodied and limbs looked as though it were to fall apart. William and him locked eyes for a split second before Grell wheeled the duo around a corner ducked into a rubbish chute. William felt his world race around him as he and Grell were free falling down the said pipe; the action was useless, for Raoul didn't even bother to pursue them.

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><p>AN: Sorry for no updates! I just had my teeth pulled and I'm suffering of it! The Hell of William the Shinigami will be updated soon!

**_READ & REVIEW!_**


	29. By Your Hand

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji

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><p>Ronald stirred in his sleep. His mind spun as he tried to recollect where he was. Several gentle coos surrounded him, he opened his eyes to find the sun glaring down upon him.<p>

"Ngh..."

"You're awake," came a voice, he recognized it to be Samantha's. He whirled around, hitting a body that laid nearby. He ground his teeth when he heard her hum a soft lullaby. He managed to sit up.

They were in a bed, one that had white, downy pillows filled with the feathers of a swan, giving it a cloud like appearance, and eggshell colored linens that stretched across the surface. Ronald peeled the sheets away from his body and instantly got out of the bed to find himself in a room that was beyond repair from damages done to it long ago.

Walls crumbled and the ceiling looked as though a monster torn it off. Vines curled around the openings and gaps if the walls, paintings and frames were strewn across the floor, and the fireplace was dead with nothing but soot and a few weeds struggling for life. Ronald looked back at the bed to see Samantha tucked safely in the sheets; he remembered his original objective and intended on seeing it through. But first, he had to figure out where he was.

"Where...are we?" Ronald asked, he wandered over to a desk laddered with leaves and moss that grew contentedly in a dim area of the room. His death scythe's handle was propped against the edge of the desk, his knife was situated on a table cloth, and Samantha's Cinematic Record sat with a Death Bookmark perched on top. He reached over to touch the knife, then he looked over his shoulder at Samantha as if expecting for her to answer.

"The Human Realm...Spears Manor...1887 if you want the year," she stated as she sat up in bed. She wore a white sleeping gown and had only the blankets covering her lower half. Ronald withdrew his hand from his knife and left it there as he approached the bed, she eyed him with hope but then it changed to dread. "Ronald...something's wrong with Master..."

"Yeah, and you too," he murmured.

He got on to the bed next to her but then grabbed a pillow. Ronald was surprised as to why she never caught on to the hint of him readying to murder her. _Is she stupid or just desperate?_

"I...he ordered me to leave you here and help out back in the Everto but...I can't leave you here in the Human Realm, it's dangerous. But after this, Master says I could keep you, we'll get married," she babbled on but then Ronald sighed, annoyed by her prattle. He brought a hand to her chest and pushed her down. His hand clutched at the pillow as he took it to her throat; he straddled her waist for good measure and pushed onto the pillow on both sides of her head, cutting off air circulation for her. She obviously screamed and thrashed about under his weight but he placed more pressure.

Her hands flailed, slapping Ronald's thighs before digging into them, he hissed at the pain but continued to suffocate her. A few minutes passed and soon her movements ceased, slowing and then stopping. Her body laid limp underneath, a hand twitched but no more signs of life was evident.

Ronald still pinned her down to make sure she was dead, then slowly, he got off her waist and sat right next to her; he ran a hand through his hair. "...damn it...that might give me overtime..."

He sighed and glanced back at Samantha's unmoving form, he removed the pillow to see Cinematic Records burst forth from her mouth and flutter over to the Cinematic Record on the desk. The book opened itself and allowed the reel to enter within its pages, forever embedding itself until Judgment Day. His brows furrowed and he cracked his back, birds fluttered around the room's open ceiling, he got up from the bed and traversed over to the desk, gathering his death scythe, knife, and Death Bookmark, but he left the Cinematic Record.

"Stupid bitch," he scoffed as he left through a formal doorway. He found himself in a corridor that suffered the same condition as the room.

The sunlight poured through the various openings, the very structure looked as though it were to crumble if a single gust of wind blew by. Ronald sent away his lawnmower and walked down the hallway, only to have the end of his blazer tugged. Ronald's heart skipped a beat._ I just killed her._

He turned to see the familiar face of Alan Humphries' younger sibling.

"Heather? !" He nearly shouted at her, surprised and confused.

She had changed quite dramatically since he last saw her. Her height was only three inches below him but she was clearly taller than her older brother. For the Academy, reapers begin training at a young age before reaching their teens, making it (on average) a decade to complete the entire training for reaping souls. Maturity came to those students and she had reached those years a few before. Her hair was longer, nearly down to her waist, being unkempt after two years of her disappearance. Her face was slightly tanned and she had noticeable bags under her eyes.

She wore a white dress, frilly and modest, but it looked lavishing on her small figure. She gazed up at him with tearful eyes. Her arms were outstretched, he dropped his knife to his side and went to pull her into a tight embrace.

"E-Eric!" She squeaked out, he pulled her away so that he could wipe away her tears. Ronald had met with her on occasion, he found her very funny and bright, even cute since she was a decade or so younger than him; he would sometimes hang with Alan and Heather whenever there was a break between work and school, when he learned of her sudden disappearance, he never bothered to come after her.

Missing reapers nowadays were easily forgotten as new ones come to replace them.

"No, no, no, it's Ronald," he corrected her. He had just finished murdering someone out of cold blood, obviously he was still somewhat shaken and was trying to switch gears to be comforting for the woman. He checked her over and hugged her once more. At least, to make up for murdering someone, he could be crowned as a hero for recovering a lost reaper, especially one of the Elders' blood. She cried and he comforted her, her face buried into his chest. "What happened to you?"

"...Raoul!" She tried to push him away though she was locked into his arms. "Raoul's gone mad!"

"Heather, forget about him, we can go home and-"

"We can't! He told me that all those reapers he worked with are busy killing everyone!"

Ronald gave her a concerned look, then he sighed,"Start from the top, Heather," but then she wrenched herself away. She took off, cleaning her eyes from tears, and beckoned him to fallow. He scrambled to his feet and fallowed her as she asked him to. Despite running barefoot, Heather cared less of her own well-being as she bounced over wooden planks and support beams that had splinters sticking out in all directions. He managed to keep up and was at her side in a blink.

"What's happening? Where're we going?" His stomach ached and his head seemed to have been misplaced, he felt slightly nauseous.

"Raoul left me here to watch you and Samantha, he told me he had no more use and then gave me a Cinematic Rip! I remembered who I was and before I could go after him, he was gone! I went to the Everto and gathered the reapers that he...he switched souls with, I put them in the courtyard here for safe-keeping..."

"...that doesn't make any sense at a-"

"KNOX!"

He slammed strait into a towering form. He bounced back and landed onto the floor with a thud, groaning in pain. He felt a pair of hands grasp on to his shoulders and pull him to his feet. Ronald opened his eyes to see Lacey, the beer-bellied reaper, beaming strait at him. Ronald flinched when he laughed.

"Been a while, eh? !" Lacey exclaimed. "C'mon, I need your help. You got your scythe, right?"

"Um, yeah-"

"Go inside that courtyard around the corner and kill every single reaper you see, just make sure you collect the souls and I'll take over from there, alright?"

Ronald struggled in Lacey's hold. "Hn, you guys aren't even telling me what's going on! Who the fuck is Raoul? !"

-...-

Meanwhile, back at the Library, Undertaker and Ivan pushed back a group of reapers that crowded closer. Eric fallowed closely, his hands clutch to Alan's thighs as he carried him, he leaped over a reaper that lunged for them as Undertaker swung his scythe and decapitated him in an instant.

"A nice morning, is it not?" Undertaker snickered as he and Ivan stood back to back. The American pushed off him and whipped his bullwhip n a circle, knocking back the closest reapers.

"Is this how all British people greet Americans?" Ivan snorted as he whirled his whip once more.

The scenario that the group faced was a literal collapse in the London Division. A good hundred or more reapers, clad in their regular dress suits, were leading a slaughter fest of unsuspecting reapers that stood nearby. The steps of the Grand Stairs leading to the London Division's Library became a fountain of blood that poured from various areas, Undertaker nearly slid but took a grip to the railing as he killed the next reaper carrying a machine.

Eric jumped over a reaper swinging a buzz saw, he kicked him square in the face, sending him toppling down the stairs. Once the area was clear, they scurried down the stairs once more, until they reached the main road. There, amazingly, it was clean of any fighting, the group took advantage of it and made a mad dash through the main street. Undertaker glanced back to see the damage done to the town so far.

Smoke was in the distance, indicating that several buildings may have been set aflame, either intentional or accidental. Screams resonated and died away in waves as they rose and fell in volume and frequency, Undertaker closed his eyes and opened them as he faced his attention on the path ahead. He ran at the front, sickle held behind him, as he adjusted his hat. They pursued him even closer but skidded to a stop when he did.

They found themselves in a dingy district of their town, one that lacked class and moral but was home to the...far more demoted reapers. It was the only section in town untouched by the chaos. Trees grew but were undernourished and streetlights were bent out of place; it looked as though it had seen better days. The consistency of white to the buildings contrasted the whiteness of the offices and apartments in the rest of the town. One would say it was the slums of the London Division.

Undertaker sent away his death scythe though Ivan chose to remain on his guard, he rolled up his bullwhip but was ready to strike once more if a face appeared from behind a corner.

"Relax, you mangy American," Undertaker smiled as Eric situated himself between them and the wall. Undertaker had his hand pressed against a large wall, the fingers plucked at a brick until the cement plaster crumbled apart. He pulled a single brick out and blew at the hole in the wall. "Now...we just have to wait for the little bastard to come with the key..."

"So this is the Execution Circle," Eric said, looking up at the vast wall that expanded itself across the street,"a bit weird to put it here."

"Circle is sort of an understatement, Eric, it's more of a Rectangle but I thought it sounded sort of...drab, Circle put more of a kick to the name, see?"

Eric gave an understanding "Ah" when a redhead and Supervisor came sprinting down the street. Heels clicked and then clattered against the concrete and Grell panted, he held out a key for Undertaker to take in hand. The redhead breathed heavily as Undertaker examined the key, he gave an approving nod and shoved it into the hole in the wall. He wrinkled his nose. "What's that god-awful smell?" He sniffed the air as Ivan covered his nose with his sleeve, Eric grimaced as William walked by him.

"Grell thought it would be amusing to go down one of the rubbish chutes," William answered, glaring at the said redhead. Grell shrugged once his breath was caught.

"It's the quickest way down from the Library, Will...as much as I would hated it, I don't want to end up like Rivers!" Grell held up his hands in defense as the wall's bricks suddenly faded away into thin hair, revealing a large door towering overhead. "...well, that's unusual, why can't we use magic? It'd be dead useful, y'know..."

Undertaker and William worked together to push the door open as Ivan answered,"Because it came from demons, that's why." Before Grell could retort, the doors groaned in protest as they were forced open, only to reveal a large court that had a shack in the middle the large plot of land. Undertaker clapped his hands and beckoned the reapers to fallow; reluctant, Ivan had the courtesy of closing the doors behind them all. Undertaker skipped across the yard, the others running behind, as he approached the shack, knocking on the ancient door with his knuckles and earning a splinter.

"Executioner, get out here!" Undertaker cried happily, the door was wretched open; Grell cried out at the sight of the man.

All he wore was black, nothing but black and had a black woven potato-sack over his head. The black drabs he wore trailed around him and seemed to have been moth-eaten; silver hair poured out from under the sack over his head. Green eyes protruded from the twin holes to the bag, each scanning the crowd in front of him. Undertaker held out a hand to him, the man lifted his arm and reached out to him; bones of a hand stretched to shake Undertaker's.

Even Eric and Ivan had eyes wide in horror at the figure, William kept a neutral expression, Grell looked ready to pass out.

"Are you keeping up with the milk?"

No answer.

"Oh, whatever, are the horses alive?"

A nod.

"And you opened a gate to the Human Realm?"

Another nod.

The man, or whatever he was, stepped to the side and allowed them into the shack. Wooden planks for the floor were removed, revealing a long, dark tunnel that ran underground. The group hesitated but then William breezed passed them, being indifferent to the fear that emitted from the tunnel.

He turned around to look at them, he raised an eyebrow,"You, my team, are afraid to go down a cave? I assure you that every reaper had come down here and never died-"

"Will, he's Executioner, the name is a given to what he does!" Grell cried out, but then Executioner kicked him down the stairs, sending him screaming to high Heaven; William sidled to the side and allowed Grell to pass by, comically allowing him to roll down the steps. The Supervisor looked at Eric.

"Do you want to be next?"

Eric grumbled and walked down the stairs, disappearing into the darkness. Undertaker looked over at Ivan, he fallowed when he heard the familiar whines of his horses. It was quiet between William Undertaker, and Executioner; William seemed to be unamused by him as the cloaked man approached him.

"Can't anyone in this Realm be serious?" William asked, he grabbed a hold of Executioner's headgear, tearing it away from his head to find a rather handsome looking face wisely staring back at him. William sighed and thrust the mask back to him. "Honestly." Executioner gave a warm smile and coughed as he placed the potato sack back to his head.

"Will, you know the man is shy about his face," Undertaker frowned as he closed the door behind him. The trio descended down the tunnel and came into a large chamber that housed Executioner's signature guillotine in the middle of it. A raised platform held two, large wooden posts that had a rope attached to the top, then an arch with a hook and a plank. Details were mangled on how death scythes were attached to the contraption, though the platform itself told its own stories through the bloodstained flooring.

Ivan stood in the far end of the chamber next to a pair of gates wielded to the wall, he and his horses were reunited and growing accustomed to the circumstances as Eric fallowed Grell. The blond's brows creased at the sight of a limb or two scattered on the platform.

"I heard he used to be an Officer," Eric started as he stared up in awe at the guillotine,"but his face scared away all the souls on the To Die List."

"Really? Lacey told me he kept killing off partners at the Academy," Grell suggested, but Undertaker breezed by, snickering,"That was William, little lamb."

"Alright, get in the cart if you want to leave this place, it's damned enough as it is! Hadn't seen a massacre like this since Gettysburg! Don't plannin' on seein' it again!" Ivan shouted as he clambered onto the cart, Eric and Grell nodded and ran after as William and Undertaker stood back. Undertaker spotted William and pushed him forward, nudging him to go with Grell. "Hurry it up! Damn, Slingby, open the gate!"

William eyed Executioner before going off, leaving the two elder reapers standing by the large guillotine. Undertaker took off his hat to dust it, he held to it loosely.

"If the Council were smart, they would have taken this passage to escape, right?"

Executioner nodded and fumbled through his lengthy cloak, he pulled out a Cinematic Record and offered it to Undertaker, who shook his head.

"Old friend, I doubt I would want to borrow at a time like this...why must you give it? Don't tell me you found Sylvestre's Records, it's be most useful and-"

The skeletal hand turned the book upright to show the spine of the cover. Undertaker squinted to see the faded letters as the book opened to reveal the last memory. A minute passed, then he dropped his hat, his mouth opened to let out a wail as he fell to his knees before Executioner. His cry rang throughout the hallow chamber while his slender fingers and sharp nails pierced into the man's cloak, threatening to rip it from the bodice.

"Damn it, we don't have time for this! Eric, get him!" William barked, Eric nodded and released the gate's handles; the iron metalwork flew out of its embedded place in the wall in order to open a way into the world of humans. Alan slept soundly in Grell's lap, though Grell turned to see Eric rushing to Undertaker and dragging him off the platform; the silver haired reaper was reluctant, even clinging to the cloak in desperation as he cried out even harder.

Undertaker reached out and snatched the book from the hand of Executioner as he was escorted to the cart. Tears streaked his pale cheeks as he dropped the book onto Alan's chest. Grell offered a hand to help the Elder up into the cart as his sorrowful wails continued. William glanced over at Executioner, who gave a wave of goodbye, as Ivan snapped the reins, spurring his horses to drive the cart. Undertaker sobbed atop a stack of crates, his hat forever gone from his head as they transitioned from the Realm of the Death Gods to the Ream of Humans.

It went black for a good minute or so until they emerged into a green, open pasture. The cart wheeled in between two trees that were similar to the pillars that held the iron gates in the Execution Circle. Undertaker continued to mourn at whatever the book held as the horses snorted and trotted down a dirt road in the field.

Blue skies and clouds, green grass and its colorful flowers, it all contrasted to what they were previously in. Ivan drove his horses to trot even faster, whipping them on occasion as they journeyed through the open field.

After a long silent exchange of unsure glances, Eric broke the ice,"Who's Record's that?"

Grell, being the closest to Alan, reached over and held the Cinematic Record. "...it's Richardson's-"

"He died by your hand," Undertaker choked out, then, in a fit of rage, pushed William off the cart. Ivan pulled the breaks as Undertaker had that murderous gleam in his eye, ready to slaughter the man who he found was responsible for Raoul's existence. The hat-less reaper jumped out of the cart and pounced the unguarded man on the ground, his fingers wrapped around his neck and he began to squeeze and violently shake William. Grell was about to jump out and help but then Eric held an arm out to stop him.

"He died my your hand!" Undertaker screeched.

"Let him take care of it...those two need to get the tension out of each other..."

Grell winced at every word Undertaker spat in his anger, every time Undertaker pounded William into the ground, a word came out of the Elder's mouth,"**HE**...**DIED**...**BY**...**YOUR**...**HAND**!"

"'Guh!" William spluttered out.

"**HE**...**DIED**..."

"But...Eric, I saw him-"

**"KAH!"**

"Raoul...I saw Raoul in the Library..."

"...**BY**..**.YOUR**..."

"...so..."

**"HAND!"**

Eric raised a brow, it made sense that Undertaker was making a sudden accusation against William.

"...if I distracted him, maybe Richardson wouldn't have died...Eric, it's not Will's fault Richardson's gone!" Grell protested, he wanted to get out but then Eric shook his head, he said,"Grell, you don't now half the story..."

"Yeah, neither do I," Ivan snorted as he turned half way in his seat to watch the beaten of William. Undertaker continued to throttle him to the ground, he showed no signs of stopping. "I'm not complanin'...we got enough time here, no one's comin' after us."

"You see," Eric began as William was strangled,"Raoul is William's own blood, they're related."

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><p>AN: I noticed that I'm considerably loosing a large amount of reviewers and viewers. I fear I'm loosing (or already lost) popularity due to my absence. Life gets in the way, I will edit past chapters to make it more suitable for readers. But really, c'mon, review? Just a little bit? I will keep the story going though for all your lurkers out there! And Samantha died! Haha, notice her soul wasn't collected. **O.o**

On another note, take notice of Heather. She was kidnapped two years prior to the events of this story. In the chapter "Precious Memories II", the memory sequence took place twenty years ago Heather was a little girl. In my fan fic, it takes about two decades for reapers to mature fully and to go through the Academy. Lifespan of reapers take longer to age really.**_  
><em>**

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	30. Take Us

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji

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><p>Ronald was lead, more like hauled, down a deteriorated entrance of the manor. It reminded him of the state in which the house was in when he and Grell were attacked by Cinematic Rips; the ceiling had eroded away and various sections of walls were torn down as if it went through a World War. Scraps of the stone blacks and pieces of metal and wood forced Lacey and Heather to clamber over, they dragged on through the mess for a few minutes.<p>

"You've been spending the most time with Samantha the past few days and I'm surprised she never said anything about Raoul!" Lacey boomed as he kicked away a fallen banister. The second floor was above though there were no signs of being accessible to anyone. Ronald felt slightly sick at being swung to and fro, Lacey only held to him by his waist and was carrying him like a sack of flour.

"Nnnnngh! If you keep tossing me, I'm going to vomit!" Ronald warned, his eyes were boggled by the rapid movements Lacey made. He lurched forward when the reaper stopped. "Alright...before I go commit a mass murder (not that I want to), what the hell? !"

Lacey placed Ronald down to his feet and stood in front of him. He slapped him on his shoulder playfully.

"Alright, just listen to me! London Division is going through shit, and your favorite reaper had found a way to save everyone's ass!"

"I know you try to get noticed but you're just desperate," Ronald grumbled, he felt only half convinced to trust his word. Lacey was, by all, on of Ronald's best drinking buddy but one should be careful to elaborate "drinking buddy". Lacey was a well-known dunk in the London Division, he was one of the lower ranking reapers that seemed to plan get-rick-quick schemes or other shenanigans every so often; unlike his brother, Lacey had a tendency to lie to superiors and nearly everyone, resulting in his low rank.

He was an efficient worker, he just loves short cuts.

Lacey's goal in his afterlife was to become a Legendary Reaper, regardless of his actions, whether they benefited or hindered the Dispatch Society. Rumor had it that Elders were planning on erecting a statue to shut him up but with the way things were going, no one was paying attention. He was one of those characters you find in the background but will eventually have a significant role in the plot of a play.

Clearly, Lacey had been spending too much time in the background. Ronald weighed the pros and cons. _Murder some reapers and collect their souls and be known as a hero to everyone, maybe they'll forget what I've been doing to Samantha...or...Lacey could be wrong and yet I still murder those reapers and get Executed for high treason._

"Lacey, this is stupid-"

"Trust me on this."

"That's an understatement!" He shouted, slapping away Lacey's hand. Heather shouted out,"Hurry up and explain it to him!"

Lacey cleared his throat and then spoke as fast as he could,"There was this crazy American known as Raoul Sylvestre. He's the guy behind the collapses in the Division of Spain, Germany, France and...Romania? Yeah, Romania! Each Division fell apart a certain way, London is the largest so Raoul thought that he could tear it apart personally. Samantha is his accomplice, yeah? So she went in and enrolled in the London Division as an International Reaper; everyone was too stupid to know she was involved with other other Divisions before.

"Anyway, Samantha takes in reapers that have death scythes with motors, kinda like yours and Grell's. When those abducted reapers are in the Everto, Raoul replaces their body parts with a human's so that they would have some sort of limit to their physical abilities. This went on for three years and since nothing happened, so Raoul gotten a better idea; he took the souls of the chosen reapers and Switched them with those of others from the Fallen Divisions."

Ronald held up a hand. "Whoa, whoa, whoa...exactly how do you know this?"

Lacey shook his hand. "Shut up, I got a minute to say this...now, he spent two more years editing and cutting Cinematic Rips of the London reapers so that their souls would attain certain memories. But it only went on to a certain extent. About..say three hundred and forty-seven reapers were taken in and Switched? Yeah, that's right, so Raoul needed to find a place to store the original souls; he put them in the bodies of foreign reapers. Right now, I just gathered them from the Everto to here, and I'll say, it was a pain in the ass trying to find everyone from London."

"You're saying that Raoul has the ability to Switch souls from reaper to reaper?" Lacey nodded. "...and how will I, collecting souls from complete strangers, be of any help at all? I think we'll be working backwards to fix it-"

"Knox, you're the only on in the London Division that has a storage container for souls, everyone else has to carry them around," Lacey sighed.

"Can't your leaf-blower do anything?"

"It blows, idiot..."

"Oh, yeah-"

"Once you collect all the souls, we can go back to the London Division and I'll take care of the rest!"

Ronald contemplated over Lacey's fast explanation. Then he ran a hand through his hair and curled his cowlick with an exasperated sigh. "Fine, I'll do it. Man, this isn't what the Academy taught me..."

-...-

Ivan watched in amusement as Undertaker continued on for half an hour strangling William. The latter did nothing but gag and cough, he didn't resist; he stared at Undertaker with unchanging eyes. The relationship between the two was odd, by far Ivan could observe it for his time being in the London Division. William would hold Undertaker in high regards and yet the elder reaper would slander William with many derogatory remarks. It was amazing how William held much respect towards the silver man.

Among Undertaker's sobs, Undertaker suddenly released William, throwing him to the ground, and shuddered violently. Silver hair curtained his features though his normally twisted, eerie grin had transformed into a scowl that bared his teeth in hysteria. He raised his hand and summoned his death scythe to hand, he swung it down, his bare hand touched the blade and brought it to William's throat.

Tears cascaded on to the man on the ground, Undertaker held him between his legs, cornering him and leaving no room for escape.

"I'll reap your soul," Undertaker sobbed through his trembling lips. William stared at him without any indifference in expression, he only spoke darkly,"And how will killing me benefit any one of us? How will it benefit you? You'll have my soul but what more will it do to revive Richardson? There's no way that such a task would be possible...so kill me if you think I'm worth slaughtering. This Raoul person, even if he is of my own blood, made the way to kill your brother; it's not my fault and you know it...throwing your hate at the person closest to you, what a pitiful emotion you developed, Undertaker-"

"SHUT UP, YOU FUCKING HYPOCRITE!" Undertaker roared in William's face. "I SHOULD HAVE DONE YOU IN INSTEAD OF TAKE YOU IN! THREE CENTURIES YOU WASTED AWAY FROM ME!"

"You wasted it yourself, you foolish old man!" William yelled back at him, for the first time in the confrontation, he was beginning to show the offense. He used his free arm and threw a first into Undertaker, knocking him off of his body. Being free of weight, William scrambled to his feet as Undertaker rolled away. Undertaker managed to get into a kneeling position as William summoned Eric's death scythe for the impending fight. Grell's mouth flew open when Undertaker suddenly charged at William, he swung his scythe at him but missed, embedding it into the soft ground of the rare trodden path.

"SOMEONE WILL HAVE TO ALWAYS PAY THE PRICE FOR MISDEEDS, REGARDLESS BEING AN INNOCENT LAMB OR SINFUL WOLF!"

Undertaker feverishly wretched the blade out of the ground and went after William once more. Grell pulled out of Eric's arm and leaped over the edge of the cart, he ran towards Undertaker, the cool handle of his chainsaw fell to his hand. William lost his footing and fell back, being unable to back away from the next blow Undertaker was about to deliver. Grell skidded in front of William and activated his engine, sparks flew as Undertaker found himself struggling against the rotating blades of the death scythe.

"Because Richardson is dead by Raoul's hand, it doesn't make it mine!" William reasoned to him, though he took the opportunity of the slight pause in Undertaker's movements. He ducked under Grell and barreled to the side to stand up, he brought the saw to Undertaker's throat. The sharp teeth were at the man's skin, piercing and drawing little beads of blood. Undertaker hissed and gritted his teeth at the sharp pain. William's voice reverted to a stable tone,"You and I are the same, brought up as an innocent lamb and then life converted us into sinful wolves. The only difference is that you never let go of your past-"

"SILENCE, HYPOCRITE!" The silver haired man kicked Grell and then hurled the blade at William, only to have it blocked by the saw. William showed no difficulty keeping his card but his hand looked strained beyond its limit, trembling and shaking at the red handle of the saw. "ENOUGH OF THE USELESS SERMONS I TAUGHT YOU!"

A roar came from Undertaker once more, he lunged forward and placed more pressure on his end but then William lost control of his voice once more,"I NEVER ASKED FOR YOUR DAMNED SERMONS AND I _DEFINITELY_ NEVER ASKED FOR YOU TO TURN ME INTO A GOD!"

Dead silence filled the entire area as Undertaker was taken aback by William's sudden outburst. Then Undertaker flared once more, but he spoke in a foreboding voice, a very dangerous one, he bore his teeth once more and snarled,"You were practically _screaming_ at me to find the demon that defiled your wife. I damn well know you were begging me to give you the powers of a god so that you may hunt him, and yet here we are, shouting to one another on a field. And then you go off to say you never wanted to become a God of Death...must I remind you, we made a deal, damn it! I've had enough of putting up with your artificial shit!"

Undertaker brought a hand to a silver pendant labeled Claudia P.; he snapped it open with a single finger, Grell had no time to react to this (or anything of the matter) as strips of light came flooding out of the tiny trinket, all of which sped for William's chest and disappeared into the fine cloth of his shirt. Screams resonated from the strips, slowly, they merged into William's piercing howls of what seemed to be of agony. Undertaker broke into a mad laughter as the Cinematic Rips returned to William, who collapsed to the ground, twitching and jolting every second.

"What have you done to him? !" Grell yelled as he rushed to William's side, dropping to his knees and then pulling him into a tight hug, Undertaker continued to laugh as two voices from the distant past rang throughout the entire field through a breeze that blew by.

_"Shall thou make this deal with I, boy, I shall take away the pain and horrors thou hath faced in thy pitiful life. At the cost, thou art forget thy beloved Charlotte Sylvestre and thou soul purpose of being one of hir kind."_

_"But I will hunt for the demon?"_

_"Naturally, tis what they, reapers, do. Doth thou accept thy terms?"_

_"...ay..."_

The whispers of the wind faded away, Grell brought William's head to his chest and rocked him slowly as a strangled cry came from the latter. Grell buried him further into his chest and held even tighter as Undertaker's crackling shrieks filled the air. Undertaker hummed a morbid tone as he sent away his scythe and staggered over to the cart, giggling to himself. He sat in the far back to be away from contact with anyone, and soon enough, the laughter died and he said,"He brought it upon himself," before going silent.

Another faithless breeze blew by, Eric and Ivan exchanged looks before Ivan silently ordered Eric to bring the two to the cart. Slowly, Eric climbed out of the cart and steadily strode over to Grell, who was hunched over and trying to comfort a broken William, who had blacked out from the process of memories resurfacing to his mind. Eric reached out to grab his death scythe to send it away, then he touched Grell's shoulder.

"Grell, we gotta get moving, it won't be safe for us if we stay out any longer."

Grell looked up at him, his face contorted with hurt and sadness. "Eric...what happens to a reaper when their Cinematic Rips are given back to them?"

In the past, for some cases of some reapers, Rips were created to help stabilize their erratic minds. But with the amount of Rips Undertaker had given to William, it looked far too much for the man to handle. Eric looked solemn and answered,"I don't deal with Rips, Grell...I don't know what would happen, I'll help him up, c'mon."

He hooked a hand under William's armpit and hauled him up, then he carried him in his stronger arms. Grell fallowed closely and the two dragged themselves to the cart. Ivan had a pipe to smoke and exhaled it at the two, he wore a warm smile though he tried to give a better vibe to the battered reapers. He took the pipe from his lips and asked,"Where to?"

They all stared at him, save for Undertaker, William, and Alan, until Grell said outloud,"Do you know where Wilshires is?"

"It's a week's travel...it's at the far North, away from London, even my horses can't go that far in a short amount of time...the Human Realm is vaster than the Reaper Realm-"

"Take us there."

The reins snapped and the horses dragged the heavy cart across the dirt path._  
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><p>AN: Ha, first time trying Middle English! But...since it won't be explained further in chapters, Undertaker just gave William back three hundred years worth of emotions in Cinematic Rips. Also, "Hir" means "our". Thanks for the support!

Please check back at the last chapter (if you bother) because I described Heather more in depth. You can look at my notes to see an explanation of her.

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	31. Two Bullets for Your Soul

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji

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><p>Ronald walked right by Lacey, Heather skipped ahead of them happily as though she were a little girl. Blood was splattered down his front, hands were covered as well, and hair was dyed red with the crimson liquid. He had his hands up and behind his head, stretching himself as they strode through a ruined village. Buildings were burned down, remnants of its civilization lingered but were tucked away by the ivy and weeds that had made home in the fertile soil.<p>

Lacey stripped himself of his blazer and vest, even his tie was around the crown of his head to soak up sweat on his forehead and in his light brown locks of hair. He was an inch taller than Ronald though he should a bit more roundness in body, a symbol of his laziness. The daylight had tanned his once fair skin, and it was also taking a toll of Ronald's as well when he opened his vest and dress shirt to be exposed to the light breezes.

"Death's made its marks here," Samantha said when she brushed a hand over a stone fence,"I can smell Undertaker's and Father's scents."

They kicked a fallen wood out of their way and continued on.

Just an hour ago they had left a courtyard in a far worse state than it had been earlier. Riddled with strewn bodies and painted crimson with flesh and blood, it wasn't a sight to behold for the weak of mind. In honesty, even Ronald couldn't stomach the work when his lawnmower collected the last soul of a London reaper. All three hundred or so wore only blindfolds though their souls all recognized the purrs and kinks from the engine; each man and woman had backs against the walls, amazingly, they covered the entire perimeter of the courtyard. Ronald was reluctant but then he forced himself to think that these were human souls he gathered.

Yes, souls were in a different body but they maintained the same memories. He tried to avoid picturing his coworkers as he tore away at flesh and bones. They screamed out his name as he fought himself to continue on. And soon enough, all the bodies were strewn in the courtyard and souls were safely stored in his machine.

_"You see, those foreign reapers...Raoul switched London reapers' souls with them. Just ignore them if you hear them screaming..."_

But Ronald still heard them scream within his mind.

_"Ronald!"_

_"I'm sorry I have to do this."  
><em>

_"Knox!"_

_"There's no other way!"  
><em>

_"It's us!"_

_"Lacey lied to you!"_

_"Don't kill us!"_

_"Just shut up, all of you!"  
><em>

He grew weak in his steps. And his elbows clamped the sides of his head, pressing his ears closed to avoid their voices. He closed his eyes but his feet dragged on, eventually, the voices grew louder as if all the souls he had just collected were in their physical forms, screaming at him."No," he ground out suddenly, Lacey looked at him funny,"Lacey, what kind of fucking plan is this?"

Ronald slumped over and a hand left his head to wander around, he grasped the edge of a wall and pulled himself to sit on it. His eyes were closed, beads of sweat began to form on his skin, drenching his already sweat stained hair. He tried to breathe as the voices faded in and out of his ears, they resonated once more as he covered his ears once more. Lacey was at his side, grasping his shoulders while shouting at Heather,"Get over here, we need to use your Shadow Water right now!"

Lacey removed Ronald's tie and wiped his forehead and neck as she scampered over to them.

"Hey, Knox! Stay with me here, don't listen to those damn voices!"

His name was repeated once more, though Ronald couldn't tell who was who, his eyes were still closed.

"B-but Mr. Lacey, I can't! I mean...not with three people, two I can do but-"

"Fine!" Lacey shook Ronald's shoulders as the blond began to groan from the voices. "Ronald, open your eyes! Just open them!"

_Those voices, it's too much._ Ronald's mind began to do circles in his head, making him dizzy. "Make it stop..."

Lacey slapped his face, the voices droned louder. "Give me your death scythe!" He shook him once more. Ronald suddenly made the effort to stretch out his hand in the air, though he struggled to do so, and the handle of his scythe slid out of his hand. Lacey took a hold of it and sent it away. The voices stopped but it felt as though he went through a train wreck. His mind suddenly shut down and he slumped to the side, falling onto the road from where he sat.

"Mr. Lacey, is it alright to just...leave him there?"

He nodded as he watched the blond twitch slightly when he landed on his back. "Don't worry, no one's gonna pass through here." He took Heather's hand and the two faded away into the air, leaving the blond defenseless with nothing but himself. Little did they know that Raoul had been watching them from behind a charred wagon tucked away in the undergrowth of a group of trees. The man leaped over several logs and the wagon itself to stalk over to the man on the road.

From his trench coat he pulled out a silver revolver with his only hand._ Damn Undertaker...damn them all. But that can change._

Blood dripped from the still fresh and untreated wound made by Undertaker's death scythe. But the quantity increased dramatically when he forced himself to rip his own arm from his body. He never knew he could bleed so much. Wounds from a death scythe were everlasting, never allowing the damaged flesh to mend itself; if Raoul were a reaper, said wounds would heal but being human, well, it's more of a dream to ever have skin grow back.

A trail of his blood suddenly thickened when he stopped in front of Ronald. "Fancy finding you away from the Manor...you might have killed Samantha but you finished the job for me, no complaints." He knelt down, blood pooled from their spot as he only hand placed the gun down and reached over to touch Ronald's chest. "But if you don't mind...I need a new body. This one lost a limb...hnm, I wonder what it would be like to be a blond." He coughed and took the revolver to his hand once more. "Took me so long, first time for me to use myself in an operation."

He cocked the gun to Ronald's chest and, with the barrel pointed above his heart, he pulled the trigger. The already bloodstained skin was renewed with fresh blood as the small wound spurted with the liquid and a Cinematic Record. Raoul brought the gun to his own chest and fired, he stumbled back and plopped on the ground; his Cinematic Record burst forth as well and intertwined with Ronald's. The fluttering films laced over one another and entered the new bodies.

As years of strips made the transplant, so did their souls.

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><p>AN: Sorry for the shortness! The revolver is owned by Ivan, Ronald took it in Precious Memories II. When Ronald was abducted by Raoul, the revolver wasn't "sent away", allowing Raoul to take it as well**. **Oh, and yes, the bastard is missing an arm**.** Ha ha, lurkers! I see you! Also, I just realized that this chapter is the only one to feature Ronnie, ha ha!**  
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	32. What He Wants

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji

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><p>"Ivan...what do you have against Raoul?"<p>

"...a lot of things Sutcliff...a lot."

Eric brought the fresh meat of the hare to his mouth and bit into it, chewing it with a loathsome attitude. He listened to the two in their conversation, their voices mingling with the cracks and pops of the fire and the occasional night call of an owl. It was only the third day that they had been journeying through the countryside, not a single inn in sight and not a trace of humans either approaching or being approached. Roads had been empty for what seemed to be dozens of years but every so often a gypsy will be spotted a great distance away. Days were long and the reapers had nothing to do save for fanning themselves in the August heat.

Their faces were covered in dust, hair oiled and matted, and their clothes winkled and worn down as if they had gone through a battle; the cause was the lack of products for cleaning such things.

Today they discovered medium sized stream that ran in through an open field from a forest. Crying out in joy, Grell was relieved at the sight of it and eagerly asked Ivan to give him soap of any sort, when the said product was given, the redhead quickly (and boldly) stripped everyone of their clothes save for slacks. He demanded for a break to do the laundry, amazingly, everyone agreed. For the entire afternoon, he washed everyone's clothes and hung them on the branches of a nearby tree to dry in the night breeze.

Eric was shirtless, he laid upon a blanket next to Alan, who was curled up to his chest for warmth since he lacked a shirt, vest, and even a blazer. Only in the morning did the young reaper awaken to the scent of freshly roasted hare (which Ivan was skilled at hunting when on breaks), he had difficulty walking and had to be carried due to the wound Raoul inflicted upon his right thigh. Alan was wide awake, nibbling on his own share of the freshly poached game. Unlike Eric, Alan enjoyed the fresh meat, he was never one for flavor so as long as he ate then he was fine, Eric, on the other hand, had grown tired the same damn meal.

He swallowed as Ivan threw powder into the fire once in a while, causing it to grow light green for a few seconds. Flames were as emerald as a reaper's eyes until they had a sudden break into a bright, crimson inferno. Undertaker watched as Ivan threw another mixture into the fire, making it into deep, royal purple; the change in color amazed him but he remained stoic from where he sat in his own blanket. Ivan stopped throwing powder to busy himself with a fresh pelt.

"We all have a reason to murder him," Undertaker said, his fingers fiddled with the skull of a hare,"I thought I would never want justice so badly."

Grell clapped his hands together after cleaning them on a cloth. "Alright, let's list our reasons. Personally, I want him gone because he took my eyes and switch them with that bitch Samantha-"

"She ain't no bitch," growled Ivan as he ripped away at a piece of leather, he claimed to be making a new belt for himself out of the hare pelt. Eyes shifted to him in shock. Only a few nights ago did Ivan try to murder Samantha before them, now he was defending her from a petty insult from Grell. He kept his attention to the leather, his knife skinning away the fur in a vexed manner, it was as if he were skinning Raoul himself. When noticed the silence among the campfire, he sighed and thrust down the tanning knife and pelt. "Guess you all wanna hear it, huh?"

"You've...sort of not told us why you tried to kill her anyway," Eric chewed out.

"Don't kill her yet, she's my daughter. Samantha Jacklyn Starveling...my poor baby girl, she was a good girl. Mama loved her, so did the town. Nice and all...she went missing after Union claimed Baton Rouge, same time I lost my Division." He took off his hat and tucked it behind him, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a pipe. He filled it with a little pack of tobacco. "Thought she'd be safe, when I checked back she was gone...shoulda listened to my baby girl when she told me she wanted Pierre back."

He lit it and inhaled the savory smoke. Undertaker outstretched a hand, Ivan gave to him.

"What are we, Lakota? Damn, we're all shirtless except for that queer," Ivan chortled, Undertaker enjoyed his share and gave it back. "Hn...she probably ran away, dun wanna get into no wedding with another guy. That's for another story...point was, she's my daughter...now, 'bout Raoul. The bastard murdered my family, came home and found my wife dead in the barn, then my other daughters were all floatin' by in the well." He breathed in the tobacco and sighed. "Happened twenty years ago...man shot down my family, I'll shoot him."

A hand was brought to his head to make a gesture of a gun, he jerked it softly and hissed,"Pow. Like they did to pirates."

"...like pirates?" Alan repeated, Ivan nodded and took back his pelt and knife. "How come you're the only reaper in America?"

"Hn, started since the Revolutionary War, no, before that...(I wasn't made into a reaper until '61 after a shootout)...New York Division kept harassing the Baton Rouge Division; Battle of Gettysburg was the final fight between those two, and they just finished each other off, lost my team and all that. Went home and did what I could to collect as many souls on my own until I captured a Grand Master of an organization of angels, they're called Sword Dancers, came all the way from France. Got him hostage and made everyone work under me. You gotta slice the wings of an angel to make them powerless, angel will do anything to get their wings back...ever since then, I got angels working for me. Things run smooth there, just like a Division...hard to believe, I used to hunt angels for sport, now I got them alive and working...just like slaves."

Eric spat out a bone caught to his teeth and finished his meal. "What's it like there?...in America...like, Divisions and stuff..."

Ivan looked at him. "Don't really know how they functioned, normally out in the field. I got into the reaper thing when the Civil War started, things go into chaos when a war happens, especially between Divisions. I had a mentor for a bit, taught me what a death scythe was and shit, then he left me to live my life and reap when there was anyone dying, I knew how to fight, used to be part of the Confederate Calvary so I survived. We used to have a Calvary Unit I was a part of...hmmm..." He lifted up a finger as if he remembered something. "Oh, we had a Library too, got burned down and moved to New Orleans a few years back, angels guard it now."

"Pretty much rule the entire country without lifting a finger...you do realize angels can die, right?"

"Nah, they're fine. Ah! Also, we use horses that have traces of human blood, came from centaurs from those Sword Dancer angels. It was a peace treaty gift for a while then everyone started buying and selling, reapers and angels are the only ones able to control them though, anyone else and you'll find yourself dead! They're pretty damn smarter than other horses, means they can be a bit stubborn." The man had a slight smile on his face, he chuckled to himself but his amusement died. He scowled and returned to his work. "...enough of that, no one's gonna be usin' those horses anymore, those pair I got are the last of the original American stocks. They got a few decades on them give or take, just born twenty years ago."

Looks were exchanged when Undertaker sighed,"Things happened a lot back then, eh?"

No answer.

Alan continued to bite onto the last piece as Grell got up, stretching slightly, and yawned,"Well, I'm going to check on Will...poor bloke's been out there for a while."

Undertaker snorted and crushed the hare's skull into fine dust in his hand. The brunette reaper flinched but then managed to his feet as well, Eric quickly fallowed and helped him before the smaller man fell over from the pain in his thigh.

"I...I need to check the clothes, they gotta be dry by now, right?"

"Well, you can't go, Alan, sit your ass down or else you'll open up the stitches in your leg."

With the lack of medical supplies, and having to have left everything back at the Infirmary, Undertaker was unable to provide apothecary; this resulted in Alan having to endure a few days of the aching pain. His leg was improving tremendously but the Thorns of Death somewhat hindered the healing to progress. Eric aided Alan down and sighed, he was able to bear the pain but would fall over once in a while. "I'll go check on it for you."

"...I can-"

Eric glared at Alan, he never done so but had to for his stubbornness. This left no room for argument as Eric left without another word, Alan laid back down and watched Eric make his way to the tree Grell had hung the clothes at. He rested his head upon his arm, Grell broke into a slow jog towards the river where the horses and William were loitering by. The fire cracked once more as Undertaker grabbed the pouch of powder and threw a handful into the flames, making them glow blue.

"...Alan," he uttered, Alan shifted his brilliant eyes to see him gaze into the sapphire flames,"what are you going to do when you find Raoul?"

"...I won't kill him."

His eyes flickered to look at him. "Wha-"

"Everyone is after to kill him, all I want is that Heather is alive and well. To me, if I kill him, where's the point in doing so?"

Undertaker dropped the pouch. "Because of what he done! Alan, he took your sister and killed your father. That is more than eye for an eye! It's body for soul!"

"Once he's dead, what good will that do? Sure he can come back if I let him live but revenge is absolutely useless. So long as Heather isn't dead then I'm alright..."

Ivan grumbled,"Your sister better be dead when we get there then."

"Say that one more time," Alan threatened, grabbing the nearest stake of wood from the fire. Though he was on his stomach, he still had the guts to defend his sister's well-being. Ivan gritted the mouth of the pipe.

"I lost an entire family of eight people to that son of a bitch and all you got taken away were two! I've been hunting after this man for two decades longer than you have! I damn well deserve more than compensation for the shit I had to deal with! You damn reaper, I bet you lived in a castle your whole life! Best you start opening your eyes to the real world, reaping is the only way to finish the job with nutcases like Raoul running around! Go ahead, throw that thing at me! Won't do you any satisfaction an-"

Alan brought himself to sit up, he brought his shoulder back and then thrust forth with all his might, launching the burning stake strait at him. The fur of the hares the skin were scattered all over his person, prompting the flames to ignite them, along with his coat.

"Son of a bitch!"

Ivan elbowed the burning wood to the dirt and rolled on the ground on his back, cursing while Undertaker howled with laughter. Alan's anger calmed and he gave a satisfied smile. It was the first time the past three days Undertaker broke into a laughing fit. The scene of Ivan trying to put out his burning body as rather comical, even Alan managed to giggle at the poor man.

-...-

The black horse that snorted shook her broad neck when William came into contact with her mane. She stared at him and nickered to the other horse for his attention, the stallion brayed and ran towards her and William. He bobbed his head and pranced close until he stopped a few feet away from William, his tail flicked and he stomped his front hoof; he was beckoning the mare to fallow and she did, she nudged William on the shoulder and then walked away to fallow the stallion. The two walked away towards the camp.

"Flames tickle you, eh? ! UWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

From there, Grell heard the sounds of laughter from two familiar reapers._ They must be having quite the fun there._

Shaking his head, Grell approached William as he took his own path for the stream. He wore only his white dress shirt since he was reluctant to let Grell strip him bare chested, it was wrinkled and had sweat marks subtly lining the sides. His hair was in array since Grell had accidentally dropped his comb to the river, he promised to replace the said tool of William's obsessive grooming later when they reach a town. A smile came across Grell's tired face as he watched William bend over to pick up a pebble, testing its weight, he skipped it across the smooth, glassy surface of the water. It left ripples that made nearby waterfowls to taken off from their spots.

_Plop! Plop! Plop!_

Dew of the grass stimulated the bottom of his feet, leaving him relaxed and providing him comfort from wearing heels in the blazing eat of August. The night promised to be cool and it was to him, he enjoyed it. This contrasted the chaotic days he was forced to endure recently, it was nice to have a change of pace. Not even an image of Samantha came to his eyes, they were probably triggered by the over stimulation of his ever changing environment. He felt today was going to be different, he knew that it was the moment he awoken in the morning to the jagged movements of the rickety cart over the dirt.

As he walked barefoot, he drew near to the edge of the grass that broke into a large patch of clovers. Hoof prints were embedded in various places of the clovers but the dim of the moonlight made it hard to see details exactly. He saw little bits and pieces of flowers here and there but not a critter in sight.

The stone made five breaks in the water before sinking in the last, William gave a quiet cough and then the smile faded away. Grell removed his red coat as he neared him. Sure he had washed his vest and dress shirt but he didn't dare try to clean his precious piece of clothing. It was made of the finest material in France, highly expensive seeing how the previous owner spent much of her wealth creating it, and was custom made to fit upon slender shoulders. Grell was unable to don it as a woman would so he kept it at shoulder length when worn. He hesitated slightly as he came from behind William with the coat outstretched.

Just as William was about to cast the next pebble Grell placed the coat to his shoulders, the raised arm froze and grew tense until Grell whispered,"You'll catch a cold Will."

William's upraised arm slowly retracted as dropped the pebble to accustom the coat to his. Grell wrapped his arms around William's and came to his side so that he may lean his head against his shoulders. The superior adjusted his glasses and gave a nod of thanks.

"Isn't it beautiful here? If I were to die, I want this to be the last place I see in my mind...coming to me in flashes on my Cinematic Record..."

He remained quiet.

Grell sighed. William hadn't spoken for three days since the Rips had embedded themselves into his soul, he worried that William wouldn't be the same person if he were touched by memories that were wiped away by Undertaker. Once more Grell sighed, his hand sliding down his forearm and then entwining his fingers with his. "Come now, we should get back to camp."

Without another response, Grell slid his hand away from William's and he sadly began a venture away from him. There was a tug to his wrist and Grell was whirled around, only to be caught up into William's arms. He heard the coat draped over the other's shoulders fall off, to the ground it went. Before Grell could squeak out, he found himself tucked into William's chest, one arm was around his waist while the other had a hand to his wrist. Grell looked up to see William gazing down at him, quiet, indifferent, stoic, and distant were the eyes that found his.

"Ah, Will...unm..." Grell stammered. Raoul was in the same proximity before, leaving Grell fazed and uneasy, even squirming; he could smell the rawness in William's breath that showed hygiene was the last thing on anyone's mind since the entire chaos began. Unlike the fresh blood he traced with Raoul, he smelled the fresh wood in his scent other than his mouth, the cologne lingered and made up for the foul breath. Noses brushed against one another and those dry lips met Grell's plump ones.

But then Grell brought his free hand to gently push William on his chest before tongues had a chance to slid past one another. Grell gave William a hesitant expression, he was hesitant. Attitude towards William had changed, Grell began to show concern for him and his well-being. Three days was all it took for William to finally show some functionality; it started with grooming his hair and then the signature movement of adjusting his glasses. Grell didn't want to move too fast, it was like coming out of the anesthetics. One had to learn to stand before walking. William was barely lifting a leg to show any signs of life.

What also gotten Grell doubtful of any approach William would do to him were the words Undertaker shouted. Perhaps William was suffering repercussions of his late beloved, those Rips may have awoken repressed memories and emotions that William had spent so long hiding from Grell and the rest of Society. Again, Grell had to be rational. William restricted many of the joys Grell would have ever since he became a Dispatch Supervisor, then it became clear to him.

William had spent the last goddamn century and a half guarding Grell.

And fight against the leash Grell had done and pulled the leash William had done. It began to click to him.

Why he despised Sebastian down to the last fiber in the demon's black heart.

Why William was so determined to lock Grell up from the rest of the Dispatch Society.

Grell had spent years trying to get his attention, even if it meant through feminine means. Of course, Grell was a woman at heart and would always remain one regardless William had been there or not*. Oh sure, Grell gotten the attention but never the kind he aimed for. Now, of all times, it took a full scale collapse of their London Division for William to eventually open up. Opening up in a way unexpected of course, but when did anything come to Grell's expectations?

"Grell?" His voice was dry and cracked, he swallowed saliva to moisten it.

And the bastard decides to call him by his first name. _Charming._

"You must be delusional...just eat, drink water, something-"

"Why have all that when I can have you-"

Grell suddenly pushed him completely away. He began to feel tears build up in his dull eyes. He exclaimed,"You've had me, Will..." He held up his hand though his fingers were not enough to count. "You've had me for one hundred and fifty years! Why couldn't you have showed me a speck of kindness? ! Something...something _human_ at least! Unlike me, you were human before! I...I see you everyday sitting at your office just doing paperwork and being a mindless worker, I swear, even Alan has a hobby! He's almost as efficient as you!"

William reached out to grab his hand and hold taut, but Grell raved on.

"I watch you...every single day filing your things, keeping records, training out on the field. I see you speak to superiors and yet you are what Undertaker say you are! A hypocrite, Will...it's a disturbing feature of you but that's the only thing human about you! My God, why can't you...why can't you just let go of the past already? Is it that much to have disturbed you for this long? ! Will, if it's money you want back, you're the richest reaper that lives cheap in the London Division! If it's power you want back, you're the leader of the strongest reapers picked from the Academy! If it's...if it's women you want, you have me! Me! Will, you have me for God's sake! A-and...William...you've treated everyone to be below your standards and rank, they all are...even I..."

Tears had broken through and Grell lowered his head, he faced the ground. "William...if it's love you want...you'll have it...if you just return yours to me." He looked up at him with glistening eyes, his eyelashes had beads of his sweet tears hanging from the fine lines. His pain face slowly turned into a warm, weak smile to him, one that meant he was trying his hardest not to show his most feminine aspect. "You spent a long time being my silent knight in shining armor, haven't you?"

He trusted William to be authentic since Grell had finally boxed him, figuratively.

"Ever since you grew out your hair..."

"So it was the hair?" Grell cleaned the tears with the sleeve of his free hand and giggled slightly. Appearance was never a good way to fall for someone."That's what got you to guard me?"

William slowly reeled him in and then brought him to a close, protective hug. "Maybe so. But that's not it at all. It was just that you made all efforts to get my attention that you completely forgotten how to pay attention to me. I watch you too...I realize I have money, power, a woman, but love is something to never mingle with. I would loose everything else just to keep love. You're...ahem, flamboyancy makes it impossible at times to approach you."

Grell shook his head, the tears had stopped. The sudden flare of frustration had fled though they threatened to come back should William revert to being the cold, emotionless bastard he is.

"One hundred and fifty years of pulling your ass out of every single, life threatening situation had been my duty and clearly it couldn't be covered with Jack the Ripper. That was a horrible stunt you done and had gone too far-"

"Oh? And who murdered humans the past three hundred years? Undertaker-" He felt William's hand at the back of his neck. "Duh-dum...uh, I mean...someone said you murdered so many..." He shimmied out of the grip. "William, Undertaker told me about you...he pulled your ass out of every situation no matter how many times you screwed up. You picked up quite a bit from a mentor...but Will...you wouldn't protect me if I were anyone else on the team."

His eyes threw a glance at the camp and then back at William.

"In anyone's position, I would have been dead by now if you hadn't come to save me...Ronald, God knows where he is. He might be dead, I worry for the boy at times because we hadn't made the effort to find him-"

"Then why travel to Wilshires? Grell, I vowed to never go back there until the demon who ruined my life is dead by my hands. Back there, there...I had a family, a home, _a life_. I had that all and I plan on not reliving it at that damned place. We already lost our own home, we practically fled from it. My team, I just can't afford to loose them. And my life now, I hadn't done well with it on multiple occasions but it still is something of the old." His pained speech turned deadly. "Now you bring whatever I have left there and for what?...are you trying to make me kill you?"

That stabbed a stake to Grell's heart, it was asked in a forceful way, his tone made it sound he was readying to hit Grell. It was a common threat but the way he said it was overall disturbing. Grell looked downcast. "It's the last place Raoul would look for us-"

"Grell, everyone around that campfire is trying to kill him...and you're asking them to run away, even I want to murder him for disrupting order!" He sighed and buried his face into the crook of Grell's neck. "Don't restrict them from what they need the most, only I can do that. Besides, once we get there, what can we possibly do? Have me experience my horror once more and loose my head?"

"Undertaker can send us to the Everto there, he knows magic!...from there, we can find Raoul and put an end to everything! William...if you're having a hard time with the pain, you know I can take it away...vows and rules can always be broken...you've done that before and you know it."

Grell brought a hand to William's cheek and gently caressed it, he leaned into the touch almost immediately when he lifted his head from Grell's crook. "You cheated Heaven and Hell to live on. If life wasn't so kind to you..." He drew closer to him, his eyes were slightly red from the tears and were a bit puffy though he saw just fine. "...why not be kind to the afterlife?"

William instantly accepted Grell's proposal without hesitation. He too had brought himself closer to Grell, his hands were at his waist once more to press bodies against each other; his petite form fit perfectly to William, though he was a woman at heart, it only mattered that the feelings Grell could provide were enough to satisfy his hunger and to replace the void that Undertaker had so graciously filled up. The two tilted heads slightly and then pressed their lips together, hard.

Whatever William had lost, Grell had promised, at that moment, to retain the life that William had struggled to unknowingly recover the past centuries.

After a few breathtaking moments, they parted with him saying,"Please, Will, come with me."

He grasped his hand and pulled out of the embrace but with a blink of an eye he found his world go upside down with the weight of a certain reaper upon him. Grell gasped out of surprise, only to have his breath taken away once more by those chapped lips. A slick tongue pushed through his lips, cautiously avoiding Grell's teeth, and forced a low moan from the redhead. Hands were entangled in raven hair to pull William even closer.

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><p>AN: GUESS WHAT'S COMING UP NEXT!

*OVA spoiler, Grell and William were placed as partners, which resulted in Grell become a woman. It's hilarious how he did it really.

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	33. Confusion

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji

A/N: Sorry for the shortness and less updates. Anime Expo came to town and I went there to have the best time of my life. Update will return now.

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><p>Eric reached his arm up higher and snatched his shirt off the branch.<em> Damn, Sutcliff can get up high.<em> He pulled his sleeves on and buttoned it up, save for three buttons on the top, and reached up once more until he heard a distant moan. He summoned his death scythe out of instinct and hid behind the trunk of the old oak. Hand clutched the handle as he peered around to see an obscene and somewhat erotic sight. His stomach lurched, his scythe fell out of hand but he caught it again with eyes fully on two reapers just barely getting their clothes off.

Moonlight shined upon the area, he could clearly see every detail of what was happening. His mouth was wide open when he saw William run a hand down Grell's side, enticing another moan from Grell while catching it with sultry lips. The redhead busied his fingers through William's hair and sighed into the kiss. Eyes were closed but he opened them slightly, he saw William staring back at him with eyelids nearly closing as well.

Grell smiled and closed his eyes again with a faint blush when he felt William tracing circles at his waist with his thumb. He sighed contentedly and flicked the tip of his tongue at the roof of the other man's mouth, causing him to skip a breath. Inch by inch, Grell forced himself to untangle his fingers in those raven locks and bring them to the fourth button on William's shirt. Since three were mysteriously gone, the dress shirt exposed a good portion of his chest but Grell wanted to see more. He undone the buttons and then the shirt was undone, the bare skin was glazed by Grell's nails; the redhead wanted to feel every part of his body and he did.

He moaned in approval when he felt the taut muscles of his torso and chest, each fingertip teasingly bushed over skin, causing William to grow tense at some points. Grell grew slightly fuzzy in his mind but he feverishly tore his lips from William and crooked his neck to bit at his throat, nipping carefully but enough to draw a bit of blood. William groaned and brought a hand to Grell's chest to push him back down to the ground so that he may run his tongue up Grell's neck.

Eyes were half open as legs were wrapped around Willliam's waist until William brough his mouth to Grell's ear, whispering hotly,"As much as I would love to take this further, out here in the open isn't very appropriate."

"Hnm?" Grell looked at him, vision blurred and unfocused as he lewdly sighed. "It's nice here, why not?"

William leaned closer and grounded his pelvis against Grell, the redhead instantly felt the other man's need rub against one another through straining clothes of trousers. "For one...someone's watching." Grell giggled when he heard the grass rustle from a few feet away. "And two, we don't have anything..."

"True," Grell murmured, his unhooked one leg off but brought it to kick the ground and use the momentum to flip William to his back while straddling his waist. Grell pressed on William's chest and shifted downwards so that he knelt on either side of William's legs. His deft hands instantly undid his belt and pants and expertly fished a firm member from between and undergarment, his nails danced at his head and slowly went downwards towards the base, his fingers slowly wrapped around him, tightening a soft grip that made William moan and want to grab Grell's hand to guide him.

Grell swatted away William's impatient hand, the superior one opened his eyes to look at him in confusion. Grell had an idea in which William knew what he wanted but Grell was going to give it in a way that he wanted to give. The look William gave him made Grell want to laugh under his breath; perhaps he was so used in controlling Grell he had forgotten that Grell was not a common whore to satisfy his needs.

He smiled down at William and wrapped his hand even more and gave a slight squeeze, a pulse was felt and his teeth shown even more when the smile widened. "Ah-ah, Will, you can do anything to me but when it comes to this, I want to do what I want." Grell gave a quick squeeze, earned a slight whimper, and got of his knees to scoot further down; his tongue dragged down his chest and stomach, ending the waistband of his underpants. He slid it downwards and instantly rough his mouth to the head, tongue swirling at his head while dipping the tip into the slit on occasion.

William's hand shot towards the back of Grell's head and forcefully pushed him down, causing the unsuspecting Grell to take the entire shaft into the depths of his throat. William was luckly enough that Grell instinctively morphed his teeth to be flat instead of sharp. The black haired man groaned sighed in content at the feeling of having his member so far into Grell's hot throat. Grell nearly chocked but ceased breathing while rolling his eyes. _Forget it, there's no way to change him._

Grell grudgingly, and silently, agreed to William's frantic requests and thrusts. Grell brought a hand to stroke whatever couldn't fit as he purred, sending William into a spasm of shudders that seemed to weaken him. The redhead felt he had sudden control of the situation and began to run his tongue on the underside of William's member while bobbing his head. He felt William's hold on his hair tightened more to a point of where he pulled, it sent a wave of pain but Grell ignored it, he already has William thrusting into his mouth.

Grell glanced up to see William with his eyes closed, he saw him throw his head back and moan once more, any louder than Eric's earshot would earn an alarm from their camp. Grell vaguely wondered who was watching them and how, more importantly, did William knew they were being watched. Grell held his breath once more and hummed to himself, the vibrations were not as harsh as his purrs but it was enough to make William release himself into Grell's throat.

The white essence was swallowed though some leaked from Grell's mouth as he pulled away, swallowing everything and leaving William to lay there with heavy breaths Grell busied himself with cleaning his mouth. William slowly sat up and brought his pants to his waist and button and zip everything, Grell slowly stood up and brushed himself off while reverting his smooth teeth to sharp razors. He looked down at Will, only to see him sit up and look up at him with a dumbfounded look.

"It makes me wonder how you knew to do that," he panted.

Grell shook his head and licked his lips to taste William as the man got to his feet, a tired aura in his eyes.

"Oh, this?...I was raised by a whore."

He turned around and began to walk up back towards the camp without looking back. He heard William say,"And you don't want the same?"

The redhead stopped in his tracks but then shook his head. William was confused but from a safe distance away from where he sensed a certain blond, Eric wondered why Grell refused to be pleasured as well.

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	34. Better Uses

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji

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><p>They were set on the road once more by daybreak. Clothes were gathered and equipment were stowed away in crates when the sun came to peek over the hills in the distance. The horses snorted, plowing their way through an unused path that had grown with knee high grasses. Ivan snapped his bullwhip at them but they maintained the same, agonizing pace that bored nearly everyone in the cart.<p>

Grell had taken out his pocket watch and was adjusting the time by using Alan's own watch as a reference. Apparently, others had taken interest in watching Grell do away with his trinket until he stopped to look up at everyone. "...what? Why are you all staring at me?" His eyes drifted to each of them, calculating their idle looks to see the reason. They fell upon Eric's own, he took a guess. "Do you have an issue?...Slingby? Or do you want to say something?"

He shrugged casually but Undertaker snickered. William closed his eyes and pretended to sleep as Grell rounded at Undertaker,"And you, chuckles? What's with you? !"

"...you got a slight whisker," Alan answered for everyone who stared. Grell frantically reached for his upper lip and felt sharp pricks of the cursed hair that threatened to make him masculine, he frowned and closed his eyes; the tiny hairs receded into his skin, leaving his face flawless as ever. Undertaker smiled even broader than he did as Eric gave a surprised expression, he was shocked at the disappearance. Once he had finished confronting them, he returned to fixing his watch though they continued to stare. "How come you can do that?"

"His family has the ability to shape shift," Undertaker sighed,"it's thanks to the tiny bit of demon blood. They can be anyone but the issue is that they cannot change their gender. I used to mentor his older sister a while back, she died being William's partner though...a good kid." He smiled once more. "But a whore nonetheless, just like her mother."

Grell dropped his pocket watch and the other watch into his lap. "I had a sister! ?" He shouted, the silver reaper scratched the back of his head to relieve himself of an itch. He seemed to casual for Grell to tell if he were lying or not. He brought a hand to shake William's shoulder in order to rouse him from his fake slumber. "Wake up! Will!" Another violent shake and William cracked open one eye to glare at Grell, the redhead instantly released him and fell to the floor of the cart when he was shoved down. "Ahn!"

But Grell realized why William had pushed Grell to the ground, it was a way to reach over to Undertaker and strangle him. A flurry of black and silver obscured Grell's eyes as he heard William bellow,"That is an absolute lie! I never had a woman for a partner!"

Eric had taken action and restrained William from charging at the older reaper. As the cart was filled with shouts and pounds of shoes and arms against wooden boards, Undertaker spoke out from the chaos,"The watch that you have at hand, that used to be your sister's. Open it if you want to believe!" But Grell had enough of listening to Undertaker. The redhead brought himself to his feet. With the limited space in the cart, William and Eric were forced off to the side as Grell himself advanced upon Undertaker with his death scythe suddenly summoned to cleave him in half.

"As much as I want to kill you for being a bastard bigger than William, I still need you to get us to Wilshires and that Everto place!" The chainsaw was raised overhead at full power. "I don't care how far or long your relation with Will is but you honestly need to stop doing this to him!"

Undertaker smugly glanced up at him with a smile, he uttered,"You're a bit of a man-whore yourself if I compare you to her, but that only makes you look worse." Grell hesitated in attacking but then sent his death scythe away. The cart continued to move on as Grell sat himself down to the floor, his face tucked away into his knees with his arms covering himself. "I can go further if you wish but I suppose I ought to not go anymore than I can." He smirked at William as he struggled against Eric's stronger build. "Amazingly, I'd support such close relations but I say no to it William, you and Grell. You can do for much better than him."

Alan quietly observed after he took hand to the two watches at his feet, he wanted so badly to stop but the days and nights of being close together forced everyone to bottle up anger without finding a release for it. The last eruption between the tense aura between William and Undertaker was a few days prior but now it was time, once again, for them to vent out anger in the only ways the two can think of.

That was in harassing one another of their downfalls.

But calling Grell a whore, well, none of them knew what made Undertaker call him such a vulgar word. William's eyes flew open and the older man and himself exchanged insults with one another.

They plowed through the field and eventually found a break in the stocks, a dirt path. Ivan, irritated by both the two reapers ad the heat of August, snapped the reins and ordered his horses to take off at full speed, tearing down the path without a moment's hesitation. The sudden momentum forced Grell to fall back once more and Undertaker to grasp on to the edge of the cart. William held taut to the meal bars as Eric held Alan to keep him balanced. Once Ivan felt that they were all prepared to hang tight, he pulled his horses to a sliding stop while jerking back the brakes, forcing the cart to screech to a halt but with a jolt, sending everyone flying forward and, in some cases, out of the cart.

William and Undertaker landed on either sides of the horses, Ivan spat tobacco from his mouth to William's feet, barely missing his dull, unpolished dress shoes. He snapped,"I ain't gonna drive you up this damn country if ya'll keep having rows with each other! Now, I can either get us there alive or dead. There ain't no demons out here and nothing dangerous but if this keeps up, ya'll have us killed!" He whirled around to spit at Grell. "And the fuck, damn queer, why you wanna get to Wilshires? ! That place is dead!"

"Because we can get into the Everto!" Grell yelled at him, he tore his face away from his arms, tears fell from his face as he tried to regain composure. "If...If we get there, we can fix things! The Everto has everything that-"

"I'm not dealing with those shits any longer...one of you on the ground has gotta go. Which one is more important to take with us? Undertaker or Spears, freakl? I swear, they're gonna kill us before Raoul does!"

Grell looked at the two men, both of which were impatiently waiting so that the journey would continue. He stared at William, would he risk watching and having to deal with his breakdown, if he should have any, when they reach his former home? Or would he rather lay it safe and have Undertaker go along with them for protection and medical knowledge? But then leaving William right here and now in a remote location, the man would be lost. He considered his options once more.

Undertaker...he is more inclined to murder Raoul. And William, he is a bit damaged in the head but willing to fight. He looked at everyone in the cart with him. Alan was no more than dead weight for all of them, he wondered if Undertaker would leave, so would Alan if he insisted on wanting to go; obviously, Eric would depart as well, his only interest was Alan after all.

"...Ivan..."

"What?" The American asked roughly.

"...Undertaker, he should go-"

In an instant, the silver haired man deteriorated into ashes and had gone with the wind, leaving everyone in the open field for themselves. As it turns out, Undertaker was more than willing to abandon all of them within a blink of an eye. Literally.

"Undertaker!" Alan shouted as Grell blinked dumbly at the spot where Undertaker was as William clambered into the cart. In silence, Ivan clucked his tongue and the horses walked on.

"We wasted enough time dealing with you two dumb asses..." He snapped the reins and the horses brought themselves into a gallop.

-...-

Lacey ducked away as Heather closed and locked the door.

"How many left?" He panted, hand clutching the lawnmower. The man was at his wits end, he wondered how in the world Ronald managed such a heavy death scythe. Instinctively, all reapers who switch weapons would know how to use them, the only issue is that the features each modified death scythe would have. Apparently, one of Ronald's features included weight. Heather opened a small latch in the lawnmower and checked it, she reached a hand inside and felt around for any souls.

She looked up at him with a smile. "Nothing at all. Executioner has all the bad souls with him."

He nodded shakily and leaned against the wall. He took deep breaths as he tried to focus from the lack of sleep.

Three days and a half had passed since they had left Wilshires, now they were at the London Division's Library reaping souls and replacing them with the original ones. It was a spur of the moment idea when he saw Ronald's lawnmower. His plan was makeshift but came from Heather's explanations of how Raoul functioned with reapers. Raoul lacked a death scythe and processed procedures with such difficulty since ordinary tools had little to no grasp on souls, but when handled with a death scythe, souls were easier to transfer.

About three hundred or so reapers had their souls exchanged through Raoul, now Lacey was simply undoing the task. There was an issue though. When the souls of the foreign reapers were taken out, their bodies were ground to pieces by the lawnmower, giving them no place to house themselves in. Another last minute idea came from the mention of Executioner, the man was different than most reapers. He was the oldest one besides Sir Morgan, no one knew where his exact origin came from but he was the most respected and feared reaper in possibly the entire Reaper Realm.

At first Lacey was hesitant but souls without bodies had to be disposed of one way or another. Rumor had it that the hermit ate the souls of reapers that he personally executed or were brought to him.

Unfortunately, for the foreign reapers, that rumor was true.

But they were damaged, too far in their insanity to be kept at an asylum for all eternity. It was better to have them laying in the bottom of Executioner's stomach than to have them bring chaos through the world. If Lacey thought of it, he just practically saved everyone's hides.

Now that all the madness had stopped, Heather gingerly opened the door once more and peeked into the hallway. It was empty save for the blood stains on the walls and reapers passed out here and there, death scythes purred in their places but never went on to full blast. Heather curiously stepped outside when she spotted a familiar face from the corner.

"Kris!" She shouted, sprinting down the hall, she raced for him. The youngest Elder was surprised at her appearance, she had been missing for so long and was not expecting her to be at the Library, especially now. "Kris! We saved London!"

The Elder stretched out his arms for her and caught her when she flew at him. "L...Lady Humphries! You're alive!" He was red from the fighting and now he was even redder from her contact. As he spun her slightly, Lacey approached them, he dragged the lawnmower behind him lazily, uncaring anymore for its condition. "Lacey...you're alive as well, that's a good sign." The conman gave a wave with his hand, uncaring for recognition. "...so...what happened? One minute I'm fighting Officer Wagner and then the next I find him collapsed one the ground." He placed Heather down.

"If you ever knew, Raoul exchanged souls between London Division reapers and the other fallen Divisions of reapers. I don't know why but thanks to Ronald Knox's death scythe, we managed to collect and rereap reapers that had their souls switched around. Executioner had taken care of the extra souls, honestly, they don't got any use if they are insane. Everyone should come to in a while but you can just thank me since I just saved everyone's ass." Lacey was proud of himself to be the savior for the London Division, he held a smirk on his tired face.

For once, after all the violations that Kris had dealt with him, the Elder was glad to have Lacey on his side. "...only reapers touched by Raoul would know of this, how did you keep your mind? You have a machine as a death scythe-"

"Easy, my soul wasn't exchanged. I'm just like Grell, got our body parts changed. It's only my hands but I'm ok with that, hard to handle a death scythe though."

Kris nodded. "Hnm, and Lady Humphries is alive as well. I may reconsider promoting you, Lacey, for your services but there is just one problem. The Council is dead, all of them save for me and Evans, and he isn't even an Elder yet. I need you, Lady Humphries and Lacey, to help repair damages done to the London Division. Whether it be internal or external. Ah, and is there any sign of Spears' team?"

"No, Executioner told us that they left for the Human Realm, they took Undertaker and are having Ivan of the Baton Rouge Division take them somewhere. I dunno where though...my guess is Wilshires-"

"Wilshires? !" Kris exclaimed in alarm, Lacey jumped. "And they brought Spears with them as well?"

"Well, Executioner isn't one for words-"

He was cut off once more as Kris released Heather and prepared to leave once more. "Repair the London Division, or start it, whatever. I need to attend to some business as of now." He was beginning to fade away into the musky air of blood and steel with his persona being urgent. She sensed that his sudden change was due to something regarding the one he called Spears.

"W-where're you going?" Heather said, trying to catch his fading wisps. "Why-"

But then, he was gone. She stared blankly at the spot where he had disappeared. Lacey placed a hand on her shoulder to reassure her someone was there, she looked over her shoulder to see him, he gave her a wink. "I didn't graduate the Academy to clean up this huge mess and I definitely am not getting paid what I deserve. You're the daughter of an Elder so I want you to get me what I want paid after all this. C'mon, forget about what he needs to do and just start fixing this place up some more."

Heather frowned. "...but-"

"How about a cup of coffee first, yeah?"

She hesitated to answer him but then she reluctantly agreed with a slight giggle,"I doubt you'll find a coffee maker in all this."

-...-

Kris fumbled through the desk of the late Head of the Council, he was desperate in searching for any contact numbers of the Vatican Division. As any other Elder would know, should the London Division, or any other Division, be in desperate need, they are to notify the Vatican Division for assistance. Of course, the Divisions of Germany, France, Romania, and Spain would have done the same but reports indicated that Raoul had eradicated their Elders first so that the collapse would be ensured full progress.

However, Kris was a young Elder, not only young in appearance, soul, and spirit, but also in many of the ways of how the Elders functioned. "Shit, shit...shit," he cursed as he only found papers of souls to be collected. A short thought crossed his mind, who was collecting the London Division's souls out in England? He paused then threw the papers and his arms into the air. "Aw, fuck! I forgot about that!"

He was desperate. Evans was not an Elder and, therefore, had no right to claim title as being Head of the Council as of now; the man was only a historian and record keeper of employees, a hundred years more and he would be at the right age. Unfortunately, London Division didn't have one hundred years to spare. Without Richardson or anyone else of the Council's hands to guide him, he would have to think of a way to manage the chaos left to him by the others. He slammed his hands on the desk and kicked the ebony chair away.

"AH!" Kris was normally the playful one of the group, he acted like a kid, but now he needed to act as a leader. He wished he learned more from Richardson's explanations now, originally and honestly, Kris was chosen to be the next Head, but that would only be by marriage to his daughter, Heather. He considered wanting her once in a while but marriage or no marriage, there was nobody left in the Council save for Kris himself, no one to rule, no one to control, no one to-

"So you're the new Head of the Council," came a snicker from across the room. Kris summoned his death scythe, similar to the one Undertaker has to represent his position, and brought himself to a defensive position. Instead, he was only greeted by Undertaker. "Ah-ah...you still have a lot to learn... I guess you're here for the same reason?"

The silver sickle was sent away, Kris nodded,"The Vatican Division, we need them for rebuilding our own. The reapers with machines turned the entire place upside down...but Lacey and Lady Humphries took care of the situation by themselves."

"And you failed to resolve it yourself? Hnm, they deem to be a better leader of the Council than you, ha," Undertaker spoke quietly,"three days ago, this place would have resembled Hell...now it's nothing more than a replica of Wilshires if someone doesn't take charge of it." He walked to the desk and rustled through several papers. "Their number should be here somewhere, help me look."

Kris stared at him. "..."

"...what?"

"I'm just...what are you doing? Why do you want the Vatican?"

"Oh, nothing...I have a better use for them."

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><p>AN: I'd love to see more reviews guys~! Love ya!

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	35. Detour at Dawn

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji

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><p>Alan was surprised by the great stamina the duo creatures had as they pulled on, muscles flexed and retracted at their flanks and their spirits were stronger than that of anything he had ever seen. Those horses had pulled the cart for four days strait without a break, and no one wanted a break at the time, they just wanted to get this over with. Being driven at this somewhat ungodly pace, the speed made Alan's heart soar, he had forgotten briefly of their situation, almost though, just barely. His hands clutched to Eric's, the blond was fast asleep, as were Grell and William. The pair were tucked away in their respective corners.<p>

None of them had spoken since Undertaker's absence. The atmosphere between them grew larger, but the tension between him and Ivan had become worse than earlier. The horses cried out, snorting into the night air, a torch was lit and mounted on a stand to light their way. From a distance they would have looked like a shooting star, Alan's breath hitched at a bump on the road, everyone was jolted awake and were at full alarm. Alan scanned the area, quickly looking left and right.

They were in a wood. A few trees here and there but the horses successfully swerved around them on time as though Ivan spoke through their minds. Perhaps he did, he and his animals seemed to be like a family. It took Alan a minute to realize that Ivan was urging the horses to their maximum speed. They cried out once more at the crack of a whip, hoof beats grew more rapid and the reapers noted the change of pace as well.

"Douse the torch!" Ivan barked.

Those horses weren't crying because of the constant whipping, they were crying because of the presence of something else. Something that shouldn't be there. Eric was the first to react, he grabbed a hold of the torch as the cart bounced once more, but then he threw it into the darkness of the wood. It flew pass several trucks and set a few branches on fire, Alan held his breath when a man screamed in agony.

Everyone was at full alert, wide awake with death scythes out. William adjusted his glasses and closed his eyes.

Treetops blocked the moonlight from shining in between leaves, it was a rather dark forest. It gave off a foreboding aura meant to scare the weak of heart away but that didn't stop the driver from running through earlier. He swerved the horses and cart again and barely missed a tree, they were beginning to stray from the path. William turned and aimed his death scythe into the shadows behind them, another cry in pain and he retracted his pruning tool. He felt the clippers had a thick liquid lining the teeth.

"What is it?" Grell asked, another turn and they were back on the right path.

"...I don't know but they dispersed, I doubt they would bother us again-"

"They?"

"Well, Slingby threw a torch and lit someone, and I just dismembered someone...clearly it's a group."

Ivan snorted,"You got some instinct on you, Spears." The speed was maintained and soon they fell out of their tense positions, Eric relaxed himself and grabbed Alan to hold closely when death scythes were sent away. William eyed the distant space around them and then spoke out,"Take the left path, it's a shortcut. The bridge it out if you keep going. Just fallow the river." He did as told and the horses quickly made a run for the left. Ivan looked over his shoulder to glance at William, the other three were eying him as well. "...I used to rule these lands, is it so much to be surprised if I don't know a shortcut or two?"

They went through a dip in the land, the horses nearly lost their footing at the uneven roads though Ivan pulled to slow them down to the right pace and then sped them once more when they were going up. But then, suddenly, ahead of them was a river that cut ahead of their unsuspecting path. Ivan remained calm and slowed his horses to a complete halt, his hand reached for the lever as they slowed to a rough stop. Everyone braced themselves as the cart made a slight turn at the bend, this time, no one flew out of the cart.

Shaken from the sudden ride, Grell clutched the wooden panel of the edge of the cart, his hair was riddled with leaves and branches. Once secured that they wouldn't take off sprinting for Hell, he brought his hands to his hair and began to take out the knots and leaves in his locks. After a few minutes of grooming himself, he looked out at the river, his shoulders dropped as his head perked up.

It was the same river he and William used to relax by in their younger days. His adrenaline managed to lessen as they breathed in the fresh pinewood air. Excited, and despite the danger they faced seconds ago, he turned to face William, smiling warmly. "Remember this place?" The smile faded when William suddenly jumped out of the cart, ignoring Grell. The redhead looked downcast, as if he were embarrassed to gain the man's attention like a puppy.

William walked ahead of them, but slowly. Not because of the stones on the riverbank but only for the sake of reminiscing something important. Out of respect, Eric and Alan remained quiet as Ivan leaned forth to observe him better.

"...there's a story to this river, you should know about it."

Grell got out of the cart, quickly evading Eric's hand, and ran to him, throwing his arms around his shoulders to hold him. "Yes, it's you and me fiddling away our lives fishing here like a couple of-"

William placed a finger on his mouth to silence him.

"A rider in black would come with a silver sickle to collect a soul," he started,"whenever anyone saw him in person, it meant death. After completing his rounds, he would take the body to the graveyard and bury it..so they gave him the name of Undertaker. The villagers treated him like a god, they left offerings at the bridge so that he will protect the town with his powers; obviously he stayed. So long as he was respected as much as the Baron, no harm would come. But time passed, he became a story, then eventually nothing more than a child's tale and soon he lost believers. One day, on a peaceful morning, the Queen ordered the destruction of the town, and with the lack of faith of the God, no souls were saved. The undertaker never came back here, not even to gather the forgotten souls..."

The redhead remained quiet for the most part, when he sensed William was done talking, he said,"So if Undertaker left the souls, can't we collect them?"

"We can't collect whatever is bounded to a specific place," Alan explained, the duo began to head towards the cart, they clambered back on as Ivan snapped the reins. The horses dragged on, going in the opposite direction of the river's flow. "The London Division's standards weren't settled until the Hundred Years War when the Paris Division and London Division lost track of which soul to collect by hand. Since it was still fresh, systems for Cinematic Records weren't put into use until the early 1500s. We never had a Library until two hundred years ago. Before then, everyone was told to keep guard on the books.

"Either way...if Undertaker was assigned to this specific location to reap, then chances are that rules weren't properly established for him. Therefore, the London Division was based on the preference of where the reaper would like to reap, even who they would like to reap. It's possible that Undertaker decided to leave the souls in a Limbo for safekeeping but there would be a good chance that they are still bound to the area. How demons don't come to devour them is just a wild guess that he put some sort of protection. With the souls left untouched, it gives them enough time to basically become ghosts...and you all know how ghosts are. They can't leave without a reason."

Alan finished his lengthy lecture with a satisfied smile, Eric patted him on the shoulder. "You could have just said that there might be ghosts here."

"But it's more fun-"

"He never came to collect the souls in Wilshires," William concluded for them, it as in a forceful way to cease the others from speaking any longer. The ride went on for an hour until they reached a bend in the river, there, a long forgotten path was tucked away in the undergrowth of the trees. The sun peeked from the hills, it gave them more light to see where they strode on. William swiftly clambered over the crates and the back seat of the front, he snatched away Ivan's reins, much to the American's displeasure, and took control.

"Ever heard of asking, you arrogant bastard?" Ivan snarled, scooting to the side to give him room, he took out a pipe to smoke. Soft padded hoof beats became sharp when the creatures set foot over stones on the path, plants that grew around and over slightly muted their hooves but rocks were still trodden upon. William adjusted his glasses with his shoulder and focused ahead of them, the wooded area became more profuse in green though there was the occasional flower here and there tucked away in the grass.

"I'll pay you money, Knox-" William glanced back to look at the passengers but then he remembered his absence. "...the boy has my wallet."

Grell sighed,"I told you we should have started looking-"

"It was your idea to come here...we have no Undertaker to take us to this Everto place, so what do we honestly do now? Turning back doesn't seem to be an option at the moment," Eric gruffly said,"and none of us can go there."

There was silence once more, but the silence was eerie. Grell wrinkled his nose, as did Alan. The scent of death was eminent from wherever the lost town was, the stench, obvious to everyone, made the horses react in a way that they began to stop and back up. Their hinds pressed against the cart as William attempted to get them back in line. Ivan whipped his bullwhip at them but the horses, for the first time, ignored his order and reared.

"Whoa!" William groaned out calmly, unfazed by their reaction to Death. Uneasy as they were, the horses slowly ceased their fit and snorted, ears pinned back fearfully. "I think we ought to get there either way."

"Yeah," they all said in unison. With nowhere else to escape, the horses were forced to haul the cart forward. Even the reapers sensed their unease as they struggled to near their destination. Eventually they reached a stone fence that was buried under vines and so forth. On the other side of the fence was a large, open field for horses, though plants had made it their home and had clogged up most of the space. They were overgrown to a point of where the only sights beyond them were the roofs of buildings.

Beyond that was a tower, Grell sat in awe at the wreckage of it. It looked as though it had seen better days but had gone through the worst. Ravens situated themselves at the singles of the roof and at the exposed beams that held out a suspended cage. He never saw the cage before, he whispered,"Why's there a cage?"

"If memory serves me right, my eldest son enjoyed suspending and torturing criminals. No deaths, just mentally disoriented results." He said so in a casual manner that it even irked out Ivan. "I had three of them, you should know. The eldest...Garland, he was the strongest out of them. He was supposed to take the family name but when his mother died he took up hers instead. I thought he would have made a great leader with the only flaw being that he loves to have a firm hand on people, a poor sadist really. Then there was Laird, my second one, a bit younger by a few years but was pretty well educated like his mother. Strategies were always his strong points, he was a smart fighter as well; Garland always watched for him. Finally Shelton...obviously the youngest. An excellent rider, he lead an entire unit to Fawkswood by himself, I had him control most of my men for the most part.

"They were all good boys. If they were alive, they would have done me even more proud...even if one of them did abandon us for dead. Garland fled the town with his child and left him somewhere, I never saw him again until the Earl Phantomhive rode in at the head of his platoon, dragging my son with him by his ankles. He was dead...this was the very path I saw him be dragged him upon...I was watching from that tower there."

He pointed at the decrepit tower in the distance. A faint breeze picked up, Eric sat up strait, he was perked up slightly, yawning,"I hear something..."

Grell summoned his death scythe as Alan gasped,"I hear it too." William snapped the reins and forced the horses into a relaxed trot in which the cart was pulled easily over the fertile soil. "Wait Grell, it sounds more like music." The redhead strained his ear to hear, and he heard strings strung somewhere. It was a jig, like a merry song that lifted everyone's spirits in the cart. Even William was slightly moving his body to the steady chords of the instrument.

Soon, they reached the end of the stone wall where an arch made of even larger stones; a pair of run down, rusted gates were left carelessly open, William brought the carriage to a halt and a voice spoke out of nowhere.

"State your name and business here," it said, Grell frantically looked around and saw the others all looking to their right at something that spoke from its spot.

_Are they talking to the gate?_

"Just passing by," William answered smoothly.

_Oh, so...if that's a ghost, I can't see it. Why?_ He folded his arms and scowled. _That's right, my eyes._

"...you're allowed to go. Pass through with care, stranger." William nodded and put his eyes back on the road. The horses worked to haul and they done so, they went through the gates in silence though Grell could hear a town that sounded as though it were alive. At least a few feet ahead were shattered buildings that were decaying and being reclaimed by the land. Shambles of sorts were strewn about the street far ahead though voices of its previous occupants were heard by the reapers.

"Will, I can't see them," Grell spoke aloud but then he cut himself off when he saw a familiar body left off the side of the road. It limply rested in the dirt without any defenses whatsoever. Grell blinked. If this were a dead town then why can't he see the dead? Perhaps it was something else, something alive, someone he knew. Without warning, Grell jumped out of the cart and sprinted as fast as his high heels could take him along the road. He neared the body. His heart dropped.

_Ronald!_

He skidded to a bumpy stop and went to his knees to examine the boy. His hair was matted with dust and blood, even his shirt was caked dry and stiff from the accursed liquid. Grell nearly burst into tears, fearful that he was injured severely, perhaps even dead. "R-...Ronald?..." Grell shakily reached down and wrapped his arms around and pulled him into his chest to hold. "Ronald!" He cried pitifully, he buried his face into the crook of Ronald's neck. He sobbed and sniffled, hot tears fell from his cheeks as he clutched him ever so closer.

In all honesty, Grell expected to find Ronald alive and somewhere else, anywhere but here. "Please be alive...Ronnie..."

The cart wheeled by and the horses were brought to a stop. First to hop out was William, who fell to his knees on the opposite side of Ronald to examine him.

"Tell me he's not dead!" Grell whimpered weakly into Ronald's neck. William tried his best to determine what wound caused the bloodstains on Ronald's skin and attire but before he could say so, there was a faint cough from the body. Grell instantly laid Ronald down and clutched his hand, hopeful that he would breath instead of make the spluttering noises that sickened him. A hand was to Grell's shoulder from William, it was the reassuring kind as Ronald began to breath normally.

"...get him water!" William barked, Ivan reached over the side of the cart and tossed a canteen to him. The cork was popped open as Grell cradled the back of the blond's head, William brought the mouth of the container to the younger reaper's lips and tipped the bottom upwards. Water sprinkled into Ronald's open mouth and the blond greedily accepted the water, taking it in easily while opening his eyes. Grell's fear was blown away and replaced with relief when his eyes met his.

But William frowned slightly and failed to share the same happiness Grell had. He sensed that there was something wrong, something off and unnatural.

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><p>AN: Enjoy Ronnie's appearance!

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	36. Authority

Disclaimer: I don't own Kuroshitsuji

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><p>"Undertaker...I offer your position once more as Sir Undertaker of the Council of the London Division. With Sir Richardson and the others gone, I doubt Evans and I will be able to handle the Division. I'm far too inexperienced. This Division needs a leader before we fall apart, how long can those angels of Ivan continue to reap souls for us? We'll go further into debt to him-"<p>

Undertaker's nails dug into the wooden banister of the railing. He watched as the office and market districts return to their former states at a quick pace. "He'll in debt with us if he survives, we pay each other off this way," Undertaker murmured, Kris nodded and went to his side. The elder reaper looked down at him and then back at the setting sun. "...whatever Richardson had with his policies here, enforce them. I will take up the position until the Council is restored."

Kris nodded and extended his hand, a bundle of neatly folded clothes and a pair of shoes fell into his awaiting hand and he handed it to him. "...your brother's uniform...it is an extra but his will says that I give it to you should anything happen." Undertaker didn't bother to look at it. "But I can have a custom uniform made for you if you wish."

"...I don't want to deal with that yet."

And then Evans' voice protested,"But Sir-"

"Don't call me that!" Undertaker snapped, he turned around to see Evans standing by the oak wood desk. The pepper haired man was the most stagnant of the Council, he carried himself with high prestige, nose up and yet his eyes would be aware of his surroundings, calculating so with such precision that it would allow him to reap with his eyes closed. For being a simply historian and record keeper of the London Division's Library, he, unlike anyone of the Council, was rarely one to enter the Human Realm.

In the past, he was one of Undertaker's best students. He showed so much potential but aimed it towards pushing papers and searching archives instead; in all honesty, Undertaker thought he would have done better at reaping. If he were to reap as often as he were supposed to, his hair would have gone completely silver by now but the lack of soul collecting and he would have been dubbed a full-fledged Elder. Then again, it was his choice to stay put in the offices and The Hall.

Evans was a polite man and only spoke when spoken to or, in most cases, when he hears something he strongly disagrees with. He was a law abiding reaper and enforced the rules, after all, out of everyone in the Council, he was the one who dealt with the London Division's reapers personally. "Undertaker, you need to set an example if you decide to take position as Head then you must wear the proper attire. Dressed as a mortician...well, it would sort of be a slap in the face for Society should you meet with the Grand Master of Ivan's angels...already, their leader asks for a meeting with someone of authority. I doubt I would be acceptable."

"Have them meet with Executioner, he knows the arrangements, I spoke earlier to him...and since when did angels have the task of collecting souls?" Undertaker asked, Evens opened a notebook as Kris left the room to attend to the angels.

"Worry not, Undertaker.." He cleared his throat. "It began a few days ago, after you returned to the Library. A group of these...Sword Dancers, I believe, came with a parchment written by Sir Ivan. It stated that he will take care of the soul collections around England and ensure the protection of our Library from further damage from Raoul. Of course, the only thing that the man asks for is the right to reap the soul of Raoul Sylvestre for himself. Speaking so, the man heads for Wilshires...why so?"

"Heather reported that as the last place she had seen both Ronald Knox and Raoul...it is very likely that he would still be there. With the wound I gave him...I doubt he would last much longer. But the fact that he has the ability to extract souls and swap them to another body, there is a possibility that there was a reason for taking Ronald with him...I don't know what though...hnm..."

With the information laid out before Evans, the peppered reaper exclaimed,"You don't say...perhaps that Sylvestre exchanged souls with Knox? ! Undertaker, if Sir Ivan were to find Sylvestre and the souls had been changed without anyone knowing, it would be a rather disastrous! A mutilated body is not strong enough to hold the soul of a god!"

Undertaker perked up at the statement. "Evans, you survived being William's partner years ago...I condone you for that. At first I thought it was dumb-luck that saved you but I suppose it would be your wits that done you over a thousand times. To ever think of such a possibility! Take me to where William's Cinematic Record is stored right now, I'll head to Wilshires myself...it's too late to call back the Vatican Division now-"

"You called the Vatican Division? !" Evans shouted as he and Undertaker rushed out of the highest office in the Library. The silver reaper pushed the button impatiently for the elevator to take them. As a ding came from the bell in the lift, Evans was in a frantic mood. "Why the hell would you order them to go to Wilshires? ! I know you're a bit loony but mental? That's asking for a massacre! And that town is nowhere near a population to begin with!"

"Ensure extra protection for William's team should anything happen, but even if I were there I would be unable to destroy whatever is left of the place. The Vatican Division are experts in demolishing places so I thought it would be a nice touch. Besides, those poor souls are bound to a place like that, without it they would be ready to reap." The golden gates opened and they immediately stepped in and the gates closed. "Of course...they are much more precise at handling souls than we are, they are much more advanced than this Division really. Should Ronald's soul be in any great danger, they wouldn't hesitate to attack anybody.

"I gave them the order to eliminate anyone that threatens William or his team. Mistakes in identifying souls is a high probability. I fear they would attack Raoul, thus breaking the deal that apparently Kris had made with Ivan and his angels without me knowing. Funny how fate will play out in this."

Evans nodded vigorously. "I suppose so, Undertaker..."

"I failed to stop fate twice...I hope this won't be the third time...ironic it is being a God and all."

Undertaker was ahead of him, Evans craned his neck to peek over at the other man's expression. Out of habit of being with Richardson, the forsaken word slipped out of his tongue,"Sir?"

But there was no answer, and the elevator had stopped on the third floor. The two clambered out and Evans didn't dare to question Undertaker's vague words. He lead the elder reaper around a hallway, striding pass several reapers that were busy realigning books to their shelves. "You!" They paused in their work to stare at them. "Where is Spears' Cinematic Record?"

"Saw it sittin' at that desk down the fifth aisle, Sir!" The first reaper answered, Undertaker walked ahead with Evans at his heels. They rounded a corner and found the large book sitting in the exact same spot where Alan Humphries had fallen asleep at. The book was wide open and growing thicker with each passing moment, the mortician rushed to it, a Death Bookmark and Death Pen at either hand. Evans watched in awe at the two legendary items, it was rare to see them at work.

"You don't mean to change everything right now, do you?"

"I'm only going to get myself there," he murmured, flipping through the pages until he came across a blank one. He wedged the pink and black bookmark into the spine and the words suddenly stopped. Undertaker smiled to himself and then looked at Evans. "The minute I'm gone, pull the Bookmark out, alright? I used too much energy for Shadow Water so this is the only thing that will send me to Wilshires quickly enough..." The soon to be Elder stared at his former mentor as he watched him scribble words on the blank page. When the pen was lifted off the page, Undertaker faded away into its pages.

-...-

"Ronald?" Grell asked once more, the blond groaned with a dry throat and gulped more water down once more. When he was done, he lifted and waved a hand to show William he wanted to stop. The older reaper took the canteen away and corked it as Ronald slowly made his way to sit up. He grabbed a tuft of hair and ran his fingers through it, eyes were barely focused ahead of him, Grell placed a hand to his cheek. "Ronnie?"

Ronald finally looked at him with a confused stare, then something in him snapped and he gave a faint smile of recognition. "Grell..."

And he was pulled into a hug with the redheaded reaper squealing,"You're alright! I thought you were dead but you're alright!"

"Uh-huh, yeah, please don't shake me," Ronald pleaded but Grell failed to stop. William sighed and stood up, he strode over to Ivan and handed him the canteen. Ivan took the container and the two exchanged a curt exchange in words as the American took out his pipe to smoke leisurely. At the same time, Eric, with a cigarette pursed between his lips, reached over for a box of matches left sitting by the man and lit a stick. "Um, Grell, I'm getting dizzy!"

Among Ronald's whines, Ivan blew tobacco into William's face growling in a low voice,"You got the boy right here at you're feet. I'm asking for my money...without Undertaker here, I doubt any of you will be after Raoul's skin if we find him here so I suggest stepping down from where you are. I know this is your turf and all but it ain't gonna be fun when I start dancin' with that son of a bitch and you decide to get in the way for the sake of your family name or some other prideful shit."

"I understand that." William nodded but was glaring at him. "Grell was never one to be specific so I feared going to Wilshires was very useless to begin with up until we found Knox. Obviously he wouldn't have found a way here so finding him here, of all places, is not coincidental. I want to conclude this is a trap set by Sylvestre." Ronald immediately stopped his cries at the sound of the suspicion. "I'm not going to risk my team here."

"So you're saying you want to leave? Go ahead, just be careful of the wolves in the wood. I can take care of this myself. Forget about the money, I just want the blood spilled. You two," he addressed Alan and Eric,"get out." Alan nodded but checked his leg, he prodded the wound to find that it didn't hurt so he managed to hop out of the cart with ease. Eric fallowed suit as Ivan snapped the reins and he drove down the barren street on his own with the intent of searching for the wanted man.

"Great, we lost our ride home, way to go Spears," Eric chuckled, William summoned his scythe and the smug look on Eric's face faded away,"I mean...you sure told him, huh?"

Alan shook his head to tell him to stop talking. Slowly, he stammered,"Um..uh, Mr. Spears...h-how are we supposed to leave?"

"We'll just wait for him to come back," he answered with a shrug, Ronald nearly shouted,"You mean you came all this way to rescue me and you go off and piss off the driver! ? That's so gonna get us back!"

"Rescuing you was the last intent but now we can say that was a goal." William seemed less concerned for Ivan hen he turned to stare at Ronald, the blond sunk into the dirt and Grell's hold. Then his eyes fell upon Grell. "What was the point of us coming here? You told me that this would be the last place Sylvestre would be, but with Knox here it means otherwise. I think he's here, in honesty, I can sense him, as can Ivan. I'm sure that he will return to us, he is simply anxious to kill him as soon as possible...I know that we barely had time to rest but bear with me on this..."

William adjusted his glasses to perfection and adjusted his tie. "We will find Raoul Sylvestre and bring him to Ivan, it's the only reasonable payment for having him bring us here. Eric and Grell, you two will cover the East and South sides of the town, along with the graveyard. Alan, Ronald, and I will take care of the North and West parts. When you do find him, shout as loud as you can, I'll be able to hear you, understood?"

As loyal as they were to William, they all nodded.

"Take your leaves-"

"W-wait! Will~!" Grell said as he got up, he threw his arms around William's neck and brought him down to a kiss. Everyone watched, surprised at his boldness, and looked away to give them privacy. William immediately complied to the sudden surprise and kissed back slowly before pulling away. "Be safe, will you, love?" William gave a slight, just a tiny, smile. It was small but genuine, Grell gave a peck on the lips before ripping away and then grabbing Eric's wrist to pull him towards town. "Tata~!"

"Ngh, Sutcliff!" Eric howled as he was dragged away, Alan gave a nervous laugh and looked at William, he spoke when the duo were out of earshot. The superior had his eyes set on Ronald, he seemed to be glaring at him the same way he did to Ivan.

Ronald quietly got to his feet and eyed William coolly, unfazed but showing just a bit of fear by shuffling his feet. "...anything wrong, Mr. Spears?" He asked calmly.

"...no...nothing at all," William replied distantly, he turned and walked ahead of them in a direction that was opposite of Grell's,"but Alan Humphries..."

"Yes sir?" Alan and Ronald quickly scrambled to be at his side. The sun shined behind their backs from the hills and was warming their backs from the cool night. William glanced over to Alan, squinting slightly from the glare of the sun, and said,"You should have said your farewell to Slingby."

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	37. It Could Have Been Worse

Disclaimer: I don't own Kuroshitsuji

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><p>"I grew up as a gang leader in London, not much to live by and not much to live for. Did all I could to stay alive, but do you want to know what the big kicker is in going through the hell in life?" Eric said as they scanned the Eastern side of the abandoned town. Structures were quaint though the air suggested otherwise. Grell rubbed and sniffled his nose as they leaped down to the lower rooftop to begin searching once more. His heel clacked against the loose shingles, causing a few or so to fall off and away. The two men glanced down at the streets, one saw the shades of the past while the other simply saw debris scattered about.<p>

Eric lunged over a beam while Grell slipped through it with ease. "Stole and sold things just to read books."

"All that for books?" Grell huffed. "Such sentimental things...but that's what makes you guys human."

"Heh, when all you got to listen to is people dying left and right, you get used to it and it gets kinda boring. Good to have something to read." He shrugged casually as they took the lower roofs and eventually landed in the street. "Went through both areas...now for the graveyard-"

"Hold on," the redhead murmured, he approached a building that seemed to be supported by a single base, thought it was less reassuring when the door fell off its hinges. Grell slowly walked by a shade that stood by the door, Eric adjusted his glasses and saw the shade to take the form of a woman. She was dressed in a burgundy dress that lacked sleeves, the front of the helm of her skirt was split apart and sewn with laces at the edges to reveal her pale slender legs, and her chest was more than enough to gain Eric's ever so slight attention. Grell simply breezed passed her to enter the building, she gave him a rude look and glanced over at Eric with a smile.

She held a hand out to him as an offer. "A pence for pleasure?" She had her hair down though her bangs were brushed away to show the complexity of her face. She was slightly transparent but the longer Eric stared, the more she seemed physical to the touch. Eric shook his head but gave a smile in return, she suddenly approached him to be by his side. "I suppose you can see us. My name is...rather was actually...Celeste. This building was my pleasure house for the men, Baron Spears supported us unlike the others, so long as we stay by the graveyard and away from the public we were alright to have business. He was a nice patron..."

"A brothel, eh? Never thought William would be into these kind of things-"

"It was for his men," she corrected,"those who lacked wives were welcomed here."

The said brothel was in pieces, walls were desecrated, enabling Eric to make out what seemed to be beds and other rooms on the various floors. A few ravens made their home under the edge of the roof on a dresser that was left on its side, it threatened to fall if the building were disturbed. Eric imagined the establishment itself to be brightly or subtly colored but the ashes and soot lined the building, weeds grew at the front and gave it a rundown feeling. From the inside he could hear the voices of women giggling and laughing among one another, a man or so could be heard.

"We're stuck here for the rest of eternity. All we can do is repeat the same day...so boring this all is." She sighed. "If your friend isn't going to have service here, I say you should leave. It's not like we can make you though, like I said, we're stuck here. But..." She got on her tip toes and peered over, Grell was bend over, searching through the wreckage. "What's he doing there?"

"Beats me, I was told to fallow him." After a few minutes, Grell came out with a small bottle, the little cap was open and he was sniffing it with a slight smile. "You done?"

"For being three hundred years old, this perfume smells nice." Eric raised an eyebrow. "I have a nose for the exotic scents, natural to a woman."

Celeste stared at him oddly. "He can have that, not much use for us I'm afraid. Even I'm surprised it has any liquids left." Grell took a few drips and patted his neck. It smelled of the fresh forest and wild flowers, basic, but it had something that even caught Eric's interest. Grell smiled, satisfied with his find, and pocketed it. "Enjoy it."

"Dear, I can't see you but I'm guessing this was a brothel," Grell started. He looked over in Celeste's direction. "Where's the graveyard?"

"Just over the fence there, to the right," she answered, Grell walked off in that direction and Eric fallowed, saying,"I thought you couldn't see her."

"Not see...I still have my ears, you know." It was his turn to lead, Eric walked by his side with hands in his pockets and his nearly finished cigarette clutched between his teeth. The blond sighed, trying to keep himself awake. "So you were made into a reaper...so am I the only pure reaper on our team?"

Eric grunted,"Guess so. What's so special about you?"

"Easy, I was born to a prostitute. I never knew a father, only a mother. To be truthful, I was the only boy born into that line." Grell sighed. Gates were lacking in the graveyard, the only protection the dead had were the fences and overgrown grasses around their graves and entrance to their crypts. A group of ravens flying overhead came to land by the erected headstones, the black creatures clucked beaks and eyed the two reapers as if they were hawks. "If I were a woman I wouldn't have to work this hard. You know, for the women in our world, it's either work or becoming a whore. I hate that."

"It's been a big wonder why you act so much like a lady..."

"Guess all those years playing as a girl had an effect as me. I tried to be a guy, that facade worked wel in the Academy, William was easy to push around but something about him made me feel I ought to be better off as a woman. He is rather manly after all," he giggled, they walked upon some stones,"very manly...enough of me, had you ever talked to Alan?"

He shook his head. "Not yet."

The subject they were about to breach was, obviously, about Alan Humphries. Grell knew of the two having a thing or so for the other bit both had always been too shy to share it. They weren't so subtle when Grell figured they shared the same bed from time to time, but they failed to take that relationship to where it ought to be. Perhaps Eric was more concerned for Alan's health than his own pleasure, ironically it was unhealthy for Eric to worry at all. Eric scratched the back of his head.

"You can be more than companions, you know. You do love him, right?"

"Spears told me not to listen to you when you try to play match-maker..."

"Since when did you listen to Will, hnm? You sleep together! Why not _sleep_ together?" He was being rather suggestive to him. Eric rolled his eyes with a sigh.

"Why not you retire? Everyone would be happy."

Grell fumed as they reached the center of the graveyard, a few trees grew here and there and provided them shade from the hot summer sun. The blond undid more buttons to his shirt to avoid overheating, Grell couldn't help but stare at the defined chest. "My...such a strong body you have..." Eric snorted but the grabbed Grell, roughly pushing him to a statue of an angel, he too pressed against his smaller form. "Ahn, so harsh on me-"

Eric brought an index finger to Grell's lips to shush him, then he pointed subtly towards the far left. Voices of men were heard, the sound of hooves pounding the grasses on the ground made the two reapers' hearts skip. But what was there to fear? Grell summed his chainsaw but then Eric brought a hand to clutch his wrist while shaking his head as a signal to stand down. They exchanged a quiet argument but the voices grew louder as nickers from the horses came closer.

"Lucca is died, damn it...who knew that Spears could be that brutal," said one of them, he spoke with a thick Italian accent, rough as he sounded, he seemed to be the kind to throttle someone to death with a single hand. There was a loud thud, Grell nearly jumped in his skin, Eric peeked under the angel's wing to see a body on the ground. The body was garbed in white and it seemed to be stained with blood. "...and Niccolo, he exploded...exploded! Idiot..."

A tongue clicked, it was much more lighter than the other man. "I warned him to not carry the powder with him...and what does he do? He has the powder on him!"

"Yeah, but what are the chances of a London Reaper throwing a torch? Give Niccolo a break, he's screwed in the head but not stupid! And I thought we were the barbaric ones in the Reaper Realm-"

There was a distant howl, it sounded like a wolf though it was clearly made by the throat of a man. Grell looked in the direction it came from, which was the Northern part of the town. The howl went for a few seconds before picking up once more and regaining frequency, ravens atop gravestones flapped their wings and flew towards the source of the sound while the two men grabbed the reins of their horses and rode away. Slowly, Eric released Grell, who sent away his chainsaw, and ran a hand through his hair; they observed the two riders, both wore white, or at least their capes were white. The emblem was barely seen, though Eric was quick to identify it.

His eyes grew wide with shock and he began to ran, Grell fallowed suit. "Eric! Who were they! ?"

"Who were they? You've been a reaper longer than me and you hardly know them! ?" Eric nearly shouted as they quickly sprinted, they leaped up and landed on the rooftops, they raced once more to watch up with the two riders. "That's the Vatican Division! They were the ones in the woods this morning! Shit...I don't know what they're doing here, but I doubt they're here for anything good."

-...-

It was generally quiet between the three. It was almost too intense, Ronald attempted to liven up the situation by talking about the person that they, since he failed to know, hated the most. "You know, Raoul ain't so much of a bad guy...once you get to know him. In my opinion. what he's doing to those reapers...it makes sense."

William eyed Ronald like a hawk. "Oh? What makes you say that?"

"He's just doing it to save his wife. She got sick and died of malaria in Louisiana, Raoul wanted to revive her...there was a way though, he was sorta into that voodoo stuff the slaves brought in. He got more into it when he went to their Everto. Now, the sick part of him was that he began to collect bodies of different species, I personally thought they never existed until I saw them, but they're there. He tried vampires, demons, you name it, but they all came out wrong to him."

"Why was he gathering body parts in the first place?" Alan asked, Ronald turned and smiled.

"Souls can Switch bodies. Raoul still has his wife's soul...nothing could hold her soul very long so he decided he could create the perfect body himself by using parts of reapers. We're immortal, right? And we're practically indestructible...especially the London Division. Think of it, twenty years of research and he's finally found a good group of reapers to experiment with!"

He threw his arms in the air to emphasize his statement. "And today's the day he finally gets what he's been working for, can't you be happy? !" Ronald suddenly looked sullen and he frowned. "Of course...Ivan's in the way of it, the bastard's trying to get Samantha, she's the one that had her body parts changed to be a reaper. I guess the only thing human left of her is her soul, she's nothing more than a shell though...Knox done her in...all she needs left is a Raoul's darling's soul and she'll be alive again."

William's brow furrowed and his death scythe shot out towards Ronald, he barely missed the boy's ear but any more to the right and he would have performed a lobotomy. Ronald had his hands up in defense, even Alan had his death scythe at the ready. They cornered Ronald at the wall.

"You're Raoul Sylvestre, aren't you? !"

Ronald grinned wildly. "It took you that long? Man, you must be the most stupidest reapers I've ever known!"

"I assure you, I'm not the least bit stupid. You don't babble on about your plan to the enemy's allies. And I thought Ronald was the blond in this team-"

"Speaking of the boy, if you damage this body to extract my soul, you run the risk of never having Knox's soul returned to its former body. You see, when I perform my Switches with souls on other reapers, both bodies need to be in good shape...any serious mutilation and, well, the body is sort of useless." Ronald ran a hand on the cool steel pole of William's death scythe. "So I suggest you let me go or else you'll never have Knox back, ever. But I doubt he would last much longer in my old one, it's loss quite a lot of blood, it even has an arm missing..."

"Aren't you a son of a bitch," Alan growled, grip tightening on his death scythe. Before William could speak, a howl rang though the town, heads turned and Ronald took the chance to slip away from their grasp. "Spears!"

"Get after him! Don't stop for anything!" The older reaper barked, taking off to run with for Ronald with his scythe extended at his side. The blond made it across a street and into an ally, William made a made dash ahead with Alan right behind him.

There was a shrill shriek in the air. It sounded like Grell.

**"WILLIAM!"**

William turned his head too late to see the broad chests of a pair of horses slam strait into him sending him flying to the side with Alan sliding to a halt that was just inches away from the kicking legs of the riders that galloped by. A streak of silver shot through his vision, then the whole thing was a blur.

Alan was too shaken by what he saw, a blaze of red, unidentifiable to be hair or blood, burst in front of him while a pair of strong arms wrapped around his waist to pull him back and away from William, who was still standing in place, unmoving. He saw a pair of shears protrude from William's shoulder. _No way could that have happened._ Alan dreaded the worse when his eyes fallowed the pole's length; the silver disappeared into his chest but then reappeared from between his ribs. His fear was confirmed when he saw that William had managed to impale himself.

Red hair and red blood mixed with one another, causing the entire scene was a blur to him, but one thing was for sure when he looked at the alley ahead of him; he allowed Ronald to escape.

But Ronald was the least of his, or anyone's, concern now. Strips of light burst forth for either wounds and began to play before everyone's eyes. Screams from the shades and Grell intermingled and their differences were impossible to distinguish. Alan saw the redhead take hand of the pruning tool and pull it out of William's body, he tossed it aside and brought William down to lay on the ground. Blood spurted from William's mouth as he began to gag on the liquids, how Grell and Eric were spontaneously there was a blessing to Alan. Then again, how would they be of any help?

"Stay here!" Eric firmly instructed Alan as he left his grasp, he fell to his knees by William and Grell. The redheaded man had his hands over the wounds created by the sheers but Eric suddenly shoved him away with his broad saw drawn out, a large hand took a hand of the base in which the Cinematic Records were forming around and readied to slice the memories from one another. "Fuck..."

"Eric, what're you doing! ?" He shouted, he tried to swat away Eric's hands but the blond immediately clutched his wrist and held it still while looking strait into his dull eyes.

"Be quiet, I know what I'm doing! It's the only fucking way to save him! Rush me and I'll Rip off some of the memories he needs!"

When Eric began to examine the film, Grell whimpered and looked down at William, the man's eyes were closed and his breathing had suddenly stopped. Tears swelled up in his own eyes, he swore that he could see his soul beginning to emerge from the Cinematic Records. Grell looked away and up at the strips of film that fluttered overhead, teeth grinding against his teeth and even opening to bite his lips until they bled. Grell unconsciously reached for the soul but then Eric slapped him in the face to show his seriousness.

"Alan, get Grell away from here!" Eric yelled, the brunette was quick and streaked over to Grell, he wrapped an arm around Grell and began to drag him away from the scene. The younger reaper was small but housed surprising strength, Grell fought against it; he was successful but felt a pair of arms snake around his waist, Grell whirled around to check if it were Alan, he was ready to hit him across the face until he saw the owner of those arms. "ALAN!"

"ERIC!"

The man wore a mask over his face, it was adorned with jewels and feathers and the nose was so long, it represented a bird. Grell could clearly smell ale from the man's heavy breaths, he seemed almost too intimidating. A chainsaw materialized in his hand but was suddenly kicked out of his hand. Grell trembled with fear and anger, he recognized him as one of the riders that ran William over. But what was he to use to fight him? The masked man growled when Grell kicked him at his shin.

Nearby, he saw Alan being dragged away as well by a man wearing a similar mask, Grell's eyes grew wide when a hand was brought to the back of Alan's neck to render him unconscious. He fought to be free once more as they rounded a corner. Out of nowhere, more masked men came from the shadows, Grell kicked once more and turned his head with his mouth wide open, his sharp teeth embedded themselves into the man's forearm.

A howl raged through the mask and the others drawn swords. They were ready to strike Grell all at once until a commanding voice rang out amongst the chaos,"Enough of it, all of you! Turn down your weapons or I'll repeat the Milanese Massacre once more!"

The men instantly sheathed their weapons and began to step back, even the one who clutched Grell so tightly dropped him roughly to the ground. Growls resonated from the men as Grell glanced around, tears streaming down his bruised cheek, and saw Undertaker emerging from the crowd, men shuffled away from him to give him space. He smiled wildly to Grell and offered a hand to him.

"What a down right mess this became, wasn't expecting any of this to happen, eh? Good thing I got here too, else it would've been worse!"

"Worse? !" Grell barked at him. "Worse, you say? ! William's _dying_ and you say it could be worse? !"

Undertaker's smirk disappeared. "...now that's the worse right there."

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><p><strong><em><span>READ &amp; REVIEW!<span>_**


	38. It Could Have Been Worse II

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji

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><p>Hands deftly worked to open William's shirt, Undertaker grew frustrated and ripped it open instead after fumbling for a few seconds. The man was loosing blood quickly, his Cinematic Records had spilled out, and his soul was just a glimpse away from being ready to reap. Undertaker fumed and examined the bleeding hole on the crook of William's neck. "A freak accident," he uttered to himself as he bent lower to check the one between his ribs. Grell stood by, whimpering even louder as the Cinematic Records snaked around the street. Undertaker checked his pulse at his neck and discovered that the rhythmic beating was gone. "...shit..."<p>

That one little word set off Grell.

The red reaper wailed and kicked away one of the masked men, he raced over and grabbed the scruff of Undertaker's collar. "He's dead, isn't he? He's dead!"

Undertaker looked away from Grell and towards the bloody mess on the ground, then he brushed Grell's hands away and stood up from his squatting position. Easily, the man towered over Grell, he glared down at him in a warning to not touch him once more. He glanced over at the masked group, they stared back at him from behind their decorated masks, each man held his breath. Alan was still held up by one of them, Undertaker advanced towards him, out of fear, Alan was instantly released. The younger reaper scrambled to his feet and rushed to be by Eric as Undertaker strode passed every mask.

"Which one of you is responsible for this?" He demanded.

No answer.

A silver sickle came forth and was at the ready to behead anybody he sought fit.

"Come now, or shall I start hunting down the ones responsible?" Undertaker grinned, a gleam in his eye meant business. "It's said that the Vatican Division demands deaths to be honorable, just like the Kyoto Division of Japan. Death by a reaper is better than having me report your deaths as a cause by a mere human. Correct?"

"Dario, Aldo...go forth and accept the consequence," said the one with the bird mask. The Vatican reapers shuffled to the side to reveal the two riders that stayed in the back of the crowd. Once Undertaker caught their eyes, he lunged forward and swung his sickle in one smooth motion. Heads flew from the bodies as the two unfortunate reapers fell to their knees and then their fronts; Undertaker stopped one of the heads from rolling any further with the heel of his boot. "Still ruthless you are, nothing's changed."

Alan watched in horror as Undertaker stepped harder onto the head until it was crushed under his weight. The young reaper threw his head to the side and vomited at the gruesome sight, it was as if he were a child that had walked into something inappropriate. Undertaker's death scythe absorbed the Cinematic Records that spilled from the bodies, his eyes barely taking note of the two souls he was collecting.

"Well, eye for an eye, yes? More of an eye for a pair of them," Undertaker said,"you were here longer than I suspected of you all being so, I thought this village would be finished off by now."

"Apologies." The bird-man bowed deeply and came back up. "But must I wonder why we must continue to carry out your order. You slain four of our reapers...two by accident and two by purpose. And your Council had been demolished to nothing but two I hear. Amazing, being the most organized Division in the entire Reaper Realm, you had all fallen to barbaric ways and wear nothing but rags upon your backs. Even your once respectable image makes me want to laugh."

He chuckled as the others murmured in agreement, Undertaker leered at him but he was unfazed by the subtle threat.

"What are you? A retired reaper or a human beggar?" He broke into laughter. "I thought London was always carried the mental ones, of course you all do! Legendary or not, I would love to spend time to laugh some more at you-"

"There is a specific reason why I wanted this town destroyed as soon as possible," Undertaker growled, he brought his death scythe up towards the sky; William's Cinematic Records came and encircled the silver sickle like a snake would to a pot of water, he directed his death scythe towards the Vatican reapers and the Cinematic Records burst forth, each embedding themselves into the chest of every man save for the one with the mask of a bird.

The man gritted his teeth and unsheathed his sword, though it offered little protection when Undertaker exploded with a ground shaking roar,"Destroy this town and the memories that haunt it, else be it that haunts you!"

He wretched back his death scythe and the strips of film pulled away from the men, leaving them out of breath and possibly out of their minds. Their leader was in shock, his sword barely held up but he clutched it tighter with a firmer grip. There were cries from the rooftops and the streets, doors said to have been decayed to nothing opened and closed shut, and windows said to have been shattered rattled in their window panes. Thunders from the buildings came to echo into their ears as Undertaker threw back his head and crackled his throat as if he were one with the town.

"I was a guardian of this place before, the poor souls that linger by are willing to fallow me like lambs to a shepher-"

"Undertaker, stop that!" William shouted, silence befell them and the haunting stopped. The silver reaper ceased his movements and lowered his death scythe to the ground, then he sent it away quietly. The Cinematic Records that had fluttered around him had suddenly drew back to the respective body that housed the soul owner of them. A few gasps from the reapers came as Grell sat back in shock, the man who had seemed to have lost life had regained it without answer.

The mortician's lip twitched as he looked back to see William sitting up, wounds instantly mending themselves. "...you always manage to stay alive, don't you? Even from the wounds from a death scythe, you still live."

William seemed to struggle for air, Grell could only watch him with mouth wide open. One second he's seeing William's Cinematic Records and then the next, he's seeing them retreat and even mind his own body in the process. Grell wanted to reach out to touch him but the man suddenly got up from where he sat, his hand reached for his pruning tool and used it to to support himself. He extended it and leaned against it lazily. Alan and Eric also stared at him as if he were from another planet.

Reapers can't get up, especially having their heart pierced by a death scythe. It's just not right.

"Not to sound unrelieved, but why is he up and running?" Eric spluttered. "That's not normal-"

"He swore to never rest until the demon he seeks is brought to justice...or so the story went. There will be times when his will is weak...but at a place like this, I doubt he'd want to perish like a dog to the stake," Undertaker snickered,"the name fits him...and with his Rip resorted to his soul, I bet he would be even more stronger. A formidable opponent, don't you say? He has what reapers don't normally have. That burning hatred...a very dangerous thing...I guess beheading your men was a fault of mine, I honestly thought William wouldn't come back for a moment there."

Undertaker gave a bow to the Vatican reaper instead, but it was a deep one that brought him to his knees. The masked man clenched his jaw and ground his teeth. From the way they growled, they were agitated by him.

"Do you accept my most humble apology?...Signore Marcello del Vaticano?" ("Sir Marcello of the Vatican?")

The man grunted,"Fine...but now that you are here...what is do you need to speak of? We were ready to destroy this town for your orders until these reapers came out of nowhere." When he meant these, he nodded to the group that stood in the center of the street by William. "A strange team you have."

"Raoul Sylvestre is the soul we are after, a problem with that is he has the ability to exchange souls with one another. I fear for the safety of Ronald Knox, I only came back to warn you of this..."

As the two men immersed themselves into the conversation, the three London reapers turned to face William with burning questions, but the latter held his hand up to silence the. "I know where Sylvestre is, the souls told me so. Whatever you need to say, just do so later. Right now, you need to catch Ivan before he reaches the Wilshires Manor, he will harvest Knox's soul instead if you fail to go now." He had returned to his composed self, it was as if the accident never happened and he never died before them. He readied to leave but Grell grabbed his wrist.

"Why are you asking us to go fetch Ronnie? What do you me-"

"Just fallow my orders and do what I ask without question!" William snapped at Grell, he wretched away his hand but simultaneously, a long earsplitting scream came from a far distance. Heads turned to find the source as Undertaker growled,"A scream like that means..."

"Ivan's already found him," Marcello finished for him,"or it could be the other way around...we will leave the Manor to your hands I suppose, a bloodbath there I can guess. We will demolish this town as asked, we came all this way without reaping a soul, and my men are eager to get their hands dirty." Undertaker nodded to him and turned to face the reapers in a group.

He cleared his throat. "All of you, head for the Manor and do what you can to fix all of this, better yet, end it if possible. Of you go...go, go...to work you go! Away with you!"

The group, more than eager to get things over with, nodded and ran with William at the head. Undertaker watched their forms shrink into the distance while the crowd dispersed into pairs that raced around the town, leaving Marcello with the mortician. "You were the reaper assigned to collect souls from this place, weren't you? Why didn't you do so earlier?"

"It was a complicated situation, the night everything burned down and all...you know the Executioner?" Marcello nodded, but he closely fallowed Undertaker as the reapers began to make flames dance around them. Crumbled buildings were ignited, ravens flew overhead; if it were night time, the scene would have be a reenactment of the distant past. Souls screamed as their sanctuaries were desecrated, death scythes took the form of swords to reap, and Cinematic Records began to fill the air. Marcello was weary of Undertaker, he was well known throughout the Realms for the souls he reaped and the battles he was involved in.

He was also well known for forming pacts with demons, a dangerous task but one that would gladly carry on. Demons weren't the only creatures that could manipulate and create contracts.

"...he is a demon. A pure demon from the depths of Hell. Of course, taste of a reaper's soul is much more delicious than a human's he says. I offered him a job as being an executioner for us, so long as he stays in the Execution Circle then there would be no harm in anyone. There's no need to worry for him..."

"And they say you're the true demon," Marcello murmured,"making contracts with humans..."

"Human." Undertaker snickered as he corrected him. "It's possible for our kind to create contracts, we are all about business in the Realm aren't we? As much as Society loves to exaggerate stories, I only created one contract with William. I suppose that's what kept him alive as well, I love corrupted souls...being driven by the vows of revenge, it just makes them ruthless against demons..."

Marcello stopped, mouth wide open at the things the mortician was saying to him. He was awestruck at what he was hearing. Words were plain and clear but the true meaning was subtle, somewhere between those twisted lines that Undertaker wove into his speech. "So...you mean to say that the reaper you contracted with, he's merely used as a weapon? Or could he be your own personal toy? If so, the you're nothing more than another Raoul Sylvestre-"

Undertaker exploded into laughter,"What a perfect creation he truly is!...or more like was..." But then his hand shot out and grabbed the Italian by the throat. The decorated Venetian mask fell from his face, revealing a silver haired man that was aged slightly with winkles and a white beard, his glasses were lined with gold and his eyes were as normal as any other reaper's. His decrepit face began to turn blue under pressure, his hands grabbed Undertaker's wrist to claw at them under gloved hands. "Assurance to you, old Marcello, his true powers are only brought forth from his memories. Perhaps this is the day he'll show his colors. What's life without a few laughs, eh?"

"Kah! Hnmmm! Puh...!"

He scowled at the man's weakness.

"Hold your breath, I know you can't suffocate, we don't need to even breathe! Now, William was an interesting soul to work on." He gave a small nod in his own agreeableness. "You see, evil in things can work out pretty smoothly, but when it came to domestication in our Society, he was nothing more than a savage...ugh, the messes I had to clean up after him were a pain." He suddenly released Marcello and the man fell to the ground on his front, his hand at his throat trying to soothe the muscle. "Tch...still an old man...I'll see you when you're finished with this...remember to burn everything..."

The Italian reaper still sat where he was, head lowered, but he managed to rasp out,"Undertaker...that's the name you go by?"

"Yes...is that a problem you have?"

"A strange alias you have, Sir-"

"Breathe my true name if you dare, it'll be your last," he snarled, Marcello winced at the threat and allowed the mortician to leave.

-...-

"How is it that you still live?"

"..."

"...Spears?"

"It's just how it's been."

That was his short answer.

The group continued on, streaking through the streets and easily evading its growing flames. Clearly, the three reapers witnessed a death scythe pierce through his body and even saw his soul emerge from the Cinematic Records. At first thought, it wasn't human but William wasn't human to being with. So it wasn't reaper for William to suddenly come back to life, they were dead and if they died, they stay dead. But he returned, alive and functional as if nothing happened.

Alan tried to think it over in his mind. He never read anything like this. Reapers reviving after having a death scythe slice through them, for all Alan knew, the shears could have pierced his heart! Reapers don't just get up and walk without a scratch! "...Mr. Spears, you honestly aren't...dead, are you?"

"I will never die until I find the demon that ruined me," he answered quickly, it left no room for further inquiries. Grell flew by him but remained a safe distance while Eric stayed in the back to keep Alan in pace with everyone else. "Grell, you spoke of me being human, you asked me to show some sort of humanity. There it was, you saw it and I just said so."

Grell crooked his head. "...getting up from Death is not human-"

"Having the strength to do that is human. Think of that and you'll be able to comprehend my situation." He adjusted his glasses with his death scythe and continued on. They had barely made it out of the town and were now approaching the Wilshire Manor. Even though it was falling apart it still held its unique grandness, along with its landmark of a tower that Grell had grew weary of; in the Everto, it was completely restored though the ruined form had its own beauty as well.

The dirt road they had taken had the fresh imprints of horse hooves and wheels.

"Ivan was here," Eric said aloud for everyone, but then the track veered off course towards an open field. Concern grew to each one of them, even Willian began to raise his anxiety as he lead everyone in the general direction of where Ivan had left his marks. They were off course from the Manor but their goal was for Ivan, and they found his cart smashed against a large ancient oak tree, horses missing and no Ivan found. Grell's nostrils flared and his lips twitched as they stopped in front of the wreckage.

The wheels were torn off, probably from skidding too far, and supplies were scattered around. Crates and wooden panels were cracked and splintered, and the sight of Ivan's hat at their feet was never a good sign. The stench of death and blood soon reached their noses, Grell exclaimed,"He's under the cart!"

It was upturned with most of the splintered debris pressing the ground, Eric quickly sped to the wreckage and, with ease, pushed the cart over so that it was on its somewhat correct position. With a better view of the oak's truck, blood was splattered up its trunk, sitting at the bottom with the roots was Ivan. Amazingly his body was intact with only the crimson liquid splashed down his front, dying his clothes red. His breaths were short and faint, eyes lacked their tense glare that made anyone shrink at the sight of them.

He was struggling to breathe, not that reapers needed to, or he was struggling to speak. Ivan trembled in his spot, hands resting on the ground. Eric was the closest but he began to step away. They did nothing but watch him. "Will...is this what you're talking about?...being human?" Grell suddenly felt drawn to him, he slowly approached and got to his knees by his side. "Very interesting how that term can go many ways-"

"Samantha," he instantly gasped out, Ivan managed to bring a bloodied hand to Grell's face. The redhead tried to draw away but then Ivan wrapped his fingers into his hair, tangling them and forcing him to stay in place. "I'm so sorry...I shoulda listened to you...sweet baby, I shoulda let you off with that boy, he woulda made a fine family with you. Samantha, baby Samantha...why didn't I notice these things?"

"Grell, get away from him," William warned sharply, he sensed that Ivan's babbling was caused by something that seemed to posses him. There was overwhelming guilt that can make anyone regret their actions, but the way Ivan was speaking out to them was disturbing. Grell wanted to pull away but he stared deeply into the man's eyes as if he were entranced by them, and he was, but only because they held silver dancing within his orbs.

If Grell had to guess what made Ivan speak, it would be that Cinematic Rips were in Ivan's body eating away his soul in a manner the Thorns of Death would.

"I only cared more for the money than what you needed. Shoulda told that boy to stay home...shouldn'ta asked him to impress me. Samantha, I didn't mean to...I'll kill Raoul just for you, for your mama and sisters. I couldn't save you then...God help me. I...can't go on anymore. Get Undertaker to bury me with my family, Samantha, I want to rest with them in Heaven...be a good girl for whoever you find, alright?" Ivan weakly smiled at Grell and slowly released his hair, he caressed his cheek with such gentleness that Grell even leaned into the touch.

But then his hand dropped and his eyes closed lazily. Any passerby would have said that he was sleeping, but the reapers knew he was dead.

"We should reap him before Raoul does," Alan murmured, he and Eric stood side by side, hands holding though it was Alan holding more tighter than Eric. Grell shifted back and managed to get to his feet, he dusted his knees and turned to look at them. Eyes met his, Grell thought in his mind that he would have been mistaken for Samantha because of his own eyes.

"A shame, his will wasn't strong enough to keep him alive then," William roughly concluded. "...we found him, I suppose we should leave..."

A sinister chuckle came from the treetops above, they whipped their heads left and right before finally looking upwards to see Ronald laying coolly on the branches; he was laid-back with barely a care in the world. By now they began to realize why Ivan was covered in blood. With the realization of this, even William went off to the side to vomit at what he saw. Chunks of flesh and torn parts of Ivan's precious horses were hung on display for anyone to see.

Their heads were tucked into the crooks of branches, limbs were strung like ornaments to a Christmas tree, and tails dangled from where Ronald sat. Eric suddenly tore his hand away from Alan's taut grasp and instantly covered the smaller reaper's eyes. Grell's eyes were wide, why hadn't they seen this earlier? Could it be that Ronald did this as they were distracted by Ivan's last words? It was short though, but Ronald sometimes finished his work quickly but always done it sloppily.

"He's utterly pathetic, isn't he? The hilarious part is that he's bound for Hell." Ronald smirked and sat up to a proper sitting position. "Like the decoration? This tree seemed a bit too boring...needed some color, Grell should agree-"

Eric murmured something, it was inaudible but it was directed at Ronald.

"Sorry, Eric, what was that?" Ronald cupped a hand around his ear and leaned a bit more to listen. "Can't hear you..."

"What the fuck is this Knox? The fuck, have you lost your mind? !" Eric shouted.

"Ah, you weren't updated...I'm not Knox-"

"Raoul Sylvestre exchanged souls with Ronald Knox, right now, we need to subdue him in order to straiten things out. I say, go and reap his soul, but be mindful of the body," William quickly instructed while adjusting his glasses,"if you can, use the flat side of your death scythes."

Ronald suddenly stood up on his spot. "Oh, a fight in a tree? This has to be interesting...if you can't use the sharp parts of your weapons against me then use it against some Rips, I'm sure they pose a bigger threat than I can, after all...the more hateful the soul, the more vicious the Rips, am I right or am I just messing with you?" He waved his hand and a burst of light came from Ivan's spot, Grell managed to leap out of the way as several Cinematic Rips snaked out from Ivan's eye sockets.

They hissed and rattled their strips as they decided to pick their targets, Eric scooped Alan into his arms and quickly evaded the attack while William used his death scythe for defense. The Rips clashed with the metal and he gritted his teeth to fight against them, he thrust his pole upwards and the Rips suddenly came for Ronald. With a lazy wave of his hand, the Rips veered away from him and dove for Grell. The redhead summoned his death scythe but a second too late.

Grell attempted to shield himself but his eyes proved too useless to see the Rips, only flashes of silver were seen until they suddenly closed in on him, quickly entering through his dull eyes and penetrating into his soul. Again, when he thought he was strong enough to hold off the hallucinations he saw with Samantha's eyes, the Rips triggered memories to play through his mind, though they went through in the most excruciating way. Grell screamed and his chainsaw clamored out of his hand, screams from William and Alan filled the air until he heard Samantha's voice ring through his ears.

"Let's go to your special place, we can talk everything over as I devour your soul."

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><p>AN: To briefly explain William, one of the factors of why he survived from his death scythe is due to having the determination to fight through and never rest until he has his revenge. If you were paying attention, his wife was defiled by a demon and so he wants to destroy that particular one, therefore, he became a reaper out of the need to have vengeance and justice done to the said demon. But anyway, willpower (no pun intended) is basically his drive for revenge, William prefers to call it "strength" while Undertaker prefers to say "corruption". It's only up to you guys to determine which of the two can truly describe his determination.

Marcello translates into "young warrior" in Italian and Aldo means "little old sword" and Dario means "wealthy".

And I feel like this chapter was rushed, ha ha. Apologies~!**  
><strong>

**READ AND REVIEW~!**


	39. It Could Have Been Worse III

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji

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><p><em>"Get him away from there!"<em>

Velvet curtains surrounded Grell, a pile of dolls cushioned him as he sat atop the mound. The light dimmed all around himself, his hands touched the numerous dolls that represented the souls he had reaped over the passed century or so. He expected to find the dolls of William and Sebastian but they were no where in sight.

The room he was in was a personal room that kept track of the human souls harvested during a reaper's career. It was a space within a space, it was the individual's mind, another world. Or it could be more commonly known as the subconscious part of their mind, one in which keeps tabs with every individual collected. To make more basic, it was their soul. This place can be modified and can vary in style, shape, and appearance depending on the individual reaper's environment or personal preferences. Grell had a fondness for dolls, they were his favorite toy during childhood with the ladies at the brothel, and the solace candle-lit rooms provided.

This sort of environment had its advantages, it helped a reaper recollect thoughts and individualism, it aided them in reflecting their souls should they forget what to write for reports (cases like that are rare), and it reminded them how much humans were of lesser beings. Entering required a peace in mind to begin with, some decide to take short-cuts and immerse themselves in water or pools to calm their erratic minds. Those like Eric Slingby, for an example of an erratic man with emotions but never one to show, use water as a quick way to tap into their minds and sort out what they had done.

However, like any normal sanctuary, security could easily be breached by others.

Cinematic Rips force a reaper to enter this state and will eat away a reaper's soul while distracting him or her. The longer a reaper stays, the more their soul will be devoured by the emotions the Rips radiate from their films.

_"Force it out!"_

_"I...I can't! It latched to his soul!"_

_"Let me do it!"_

Grell could hear the three in the outside world screaming, but then he tried to focus on what he was doing. He placed a hand to his head and rubbed his forehead, it was as if he was struck in the face with William's death scythe at least a thousand times in a row. "Uhn...Will," he uttered, he reached out and pushed away the numerous velvet curtains that surrounded him. He continued to push through the thicket of them until she appeared.

"Hnph...so you're the Cinematic Rip that's inside of me," Grell huffed.

Samantha stood before him, she clutched one of the clothes that dangled from the apparently high ceiling that seemed to never show. Her white dress sickened him, so plain and boring, so innocent. Grell wanted to reach out and strangle her but she only stared at him blankly while saying,"You can't hurt me."

"Oh, of course, you're just an emotion." He fumed and turned around. "I'm leaving, good day and get out of my head."

"My eyes are the only thing preventing me from eating your soul completely." She fallowed him quietly and the two emerged into the pile of dolls, Grell plopped himself onto the top while she sat at the bottom, a pleading look to her face. "Please...I don't want to devour your soul...Papa is with me, that's all I need. I...I only come to you but the only way is to eat away at you." He folded his arms and clenched at himself at the sharp pain. "You can feel it, can't you?...the pain...it's eating away at you right now, so...just listen to me."

He felt his chest burning, then his torso was lit aflame. He quickly gathered a clump of his vest and shirt to lift them up to see teeth marks across his once pale belly, the invisible teeth gnawed at his flesh and he fell from his little throne at the top. A scream of terror came from his throat as he tried to swat away the numerous incisors that sliced through his skin. "Make it stop! Samantha!"

She grabbed his head with her hands and cradled him carefully. He clenched his eyes close and trashed about, sending the dolls around him flying in different directions. "Shush, just relax, I'm only tasting you. And so far..._the taste isn't that good_." She had both hands at his temples and began to massage them, Grell found the motion quite relaxing and he began to calm. His heart beating faster out of fear. How can he focus, she was touching him and tasting him without having her tongue on his skin!

"I only have a minute before I get too close to your soul...just listen, alright?"

He made no sudden movement.

"My body is in the room that you occupied before, go there and do not allow Master to take my soul. Do not harvest it, just mutilate my body. I...if he gives my body his wife's soul before I'm properly reaped then the gates of Heaven will be forever closed off to me and my father. My soul is the only human part of me left, if Raoul makes that modification then I had thrown away the gift of having a body given to me by the Lord. I know you're a god yourself but remember that there can always be higher beings. I was told I was given one last chance to go to his hands, I can take someone with me if I consume their soul, so then...just...just protect me."

She was begging to him. Grell merely saw her as a freak, and to top it all off she came to him in the form of a Cinematic Rip, a single emotion that can manipulate memories and cause them to resurface and torture anyone who never knew their horrid meanings. He couldn't distinguish which emotion she was. He was willing to do the opposite if he didn't see the brighter side of her request. For all he knew, she could be lying.

_Damn it._ He struggled to fight against the pain that had slowly embedded into the pit of his stomach.

Samantha licked her lips. He could tell she was trying to hold back from eating him face first. He could feel her nails digging into his head. Grell hissed and was ready to pull away if need be, but he was too numb to move. "Ahn, I'm sorry...it's just...tempting. B-but...Grell, his intentions for doing what he done to reapers these past two decades were pure, he is human. He just wanted to never be alone. If he...if he chose me over his dead wife...none of this would have happened. I was foolish to fallow him...I didn't want to be alone either..."

_"Grell!"_ That was William, his voice was faint but Grell could feel the fear in his voice._ "I order you to stay alive!"_

"They're calling you," she whispered, she began to loosen her grip upon him but he was too stiff to make movements on his own. "Go...end Master's sufferin-"

"Samantha," he murmured, the stinging feeling in his stomach had grown to his chest and had crept to his throat. It felt as though she were suppressing him from breathing. Words can't be spoken without air. "Sah..." Her hands completely lifted away from him, he felt that he could speak once more. He began to feel light in the head, then colors began to bend in the room. His eyes squeezed closed and then it became black "...Sah-"

"...please forgive me...this...is just so tempting...ahn." Her voice dropped several octaves, it was to a point of where it wasn't a man's tone, it began to rasp and send tingles down Grell's spine. "...so tempting..."

She suddenly let tears fall, they cascaded to his face, her hands strained under the pressure of trying to retrain herself. But then her mouth opened, it was unnatural for it to open like a rabid beast. Her mandible snapped to allow her bottom jaw to open wider, Grell screamed out but failed to struggle away from her as her jaw hung loosely to her head, only being connected to her by her skin. "F...fuh...FREAK!" He screeched as her head leaned towards him and swallowed him face first.

"Your...soul is mine...I see it."

"AAAAAAAAAAAH!"

It became a blur, Grell tried to fight her when he suddenly felt he had control, but then the strength he found had vanished, as did his world.

-...-

He was limp once more, the cushy feel of the plushes vanished, only to be replaced by hardwood. His eyes slit slowly open, he was on the ground facing the wall. His back ached, every bone in his spine sent electrical pulses up his back, the stinging sensation was painful but he felt he had grown accustomed to it over the years.

"Grell!...Grell! Damn it, Grell!" The shrill voice of a woman rang through his ears. Young Grell Sutcliff shifted to his feet, though as they moved, he bumped into one of many bottles on the ground, causing them to clink and clatter around him. "Were you drinking the stocks again? ! It's for the customers!"

"I didn't Mother!" Grell replied, it was a lie. Of course he broke into the stock, of course he drank his fill, and of course he passed out unceremoniously on the floor with vodka at hand. He only done this to forget what happened the night before! And what happened the night before? Grell's head throbbed, it hurt as fuck and he wanted medicine to get rid of it, the best part was that he failed to remember last night. He sighed and pushed himself to his feet.

Pop! Pop!

His back was killing him, as was his ass. Partial bits of the night came to him but he quickly repressed them. The storage room was small but large enough to fit his growing form. A small door that was a foot shorter than him was left wide open. He pushed it further and ducked his head low to emerge into the kitchen, there, he saw several of the girls cooking and cleaning. Each of them stole glances at him but returned to their work immediately.

Grell bore his teeth at annoyance. There was nothing that they done to irritate him slightly though one of them was smart enough to approach with a glass of water and pills. He reached out for it, thanked her, and swallowed both water and medicine while leaving the kitchen.

Compared to the black and white theme of the kitchen area, the halls and a majority of the rooms were decorated in red and other variations of the crimson color. His feet were bare and padded softly against the black tiles on the ground, it was deathly cold but then he was relieved when he finally found carpet to comfort his feet. A length mirror hung on the wall, he glanced at it to find that he still wore a red silk dress. Ordered from the Paris Division, it was elegant, red straps hung at his shoulders, decent frills lined the edges, and it was split in the side to show off quite a bit of his smooth legs. He frowned slightly, but not at the large tear in the front, at the fact that he wore such a flimsy outfit.

He was sick of it. Sick of playing the role of a female, something he could never be, it made him want to slap and curse his own mother to Hell. The thought of her crossed his mind, he turned and looked down the hallway to see her.

She was of slender build. Eyes sparkling emerald and ringed with yellow-green vigor. Her face was smoother than a newborn's and yet had no winkles to show. Hair crimson and long, it was luxurious and full of volume though she kept it in a tight ponytail during hours when customers never came at. She wore a simple night-gown, black and modest, though it showed off her perfect curves and bountiful chest. Grell darted his eyes at a plant to avoid staring at her.

When it came to sexuality in the Reaper Realm it didn't matter what gender or relation is. Grell learned that lesson first hand, it was unpleasant, disgusting, and downright wrong for him, especially at a prepubescent age in life. Now he was near the human's equivalent of sixteen. That was the age when male reapers entered the Academy for training to become whatever they could for the workforce. He wanted to ask her about it at the moment but then she erupted into a storm of rage,"Grell Sutcliff! That dress I bought you! It was expensive! Highly expensive! Special ordered and you decide to tear it during service! ? What kind of daughter are you! ?"

Grell shirked, he backed away slowly as she advanced upon him. It took all his strength and will to never snap at her. But this had been gong on for as long as he could remember. _This_ began with his hair and eventually to training, training meant knowing how to pleasure men. At first, Grell was too naive to know the difference between genders, but as he grew older, he began to have a mind of his own. He hated being referred to as a daughter, at first he wanted to be a son but given his mother's position he was forced to act as a daughter for her. Overtime, he grew to hate it while becoming the very thing he loathed the most.

Her mouth was open, he could see the jagged row of teeth, both bottom and top. They snapped with every word, he flinched as she brought a hand up. She slapped him across the face, he fell back slightly but regained balance as she ranted on,"You are in a house full of women, learn to behave as so! You're more useless than your father, and I don't even know who your father is!"

"Yes Mother," he grumbled as he rubbed his sore cheek. Damn, the lady knows how to slap.

"Hn..." She grabbed his skinny arm and grasped it. "You're getting fat. No breakfast for you today, no, women like us need to be in top shape to please, not be skin and blood!" She slapped him once more and turned around. "Hmph...clean up, we have a special guest that we need to treat, and you're going to be the one to pleasure him."

Grell had his mouth wide open. His head throbbed from both the hangover and slap. "Bu..but," he babbled, but she held a hand to stop him. She slapped him once more and the sound of the oak doors opening at the entrance of the large home resounded through their ears. The girls in the kitchen scurried out and passed them for the dining room with platters covered with silver tops. Grell scowled at each of them and they hurried faster.

"Go and make yourself presentable!"

An hour passed on and Grell found himself standing at the head of one of the lines of available girls that were willing to please the new guest. He was the most decorated out of all, he wore a rather provocative dress though it seemed appropriate for everyone. It was similar to the other dress he had on earlier though it was more revealing at some parts, even his undergarment was seen under the seems of the dress. He waited patiently in the hallway where the guest was heard speaking with Grell's mother from around the corner.

"...these are highly valuable ladies, purchasing any of them will be much wort for whatever your endeavors are, Sir," she spoke with that wicked charm that made men want to have her. A younger girl tugged at Grell's hand, he looked down at her.

"The Mistress said Sir! It's one of the Council!" She whispered, the rest heard him and burst into a fit of gasps. Grell's eyes were wide. None of the men of the Council had loose morals to go here, especially of all places. And it was so early in the morning, how could they do proper service? Unless he came on official business, there would be no use for men of high position to be at the lowest of Society. The man turned the corner, he wore a black trench coat that was buttoned up to the third button at the top. His tie was of silk and his shirt was spotless and free of any stains; he had silver bangs that were trimmed properly and brushed to the side.

Gasps were fallowed at his entrance into the hallway, even Grell was fixated on the man's handsome complexity. He wore glasses that had that steel tint to them, it gleamed in the morning rays of the sun that poured through the clear windows. Amazingly, the Council member's eyes met his as well.

"Harlot, I want this one, she's absolutely perfect..."

Harlot, the woman Grell called 'Mother', let out a cry of surprise,"Her? But..unm...she's special, she stays here. The Human Realm isn't the place for her to be rough-"

"But look..." He approached Grell and put a hand to the back of Grell's head. With a quick flick of the wrist, the red ribbon holding Grell's hair up allowed it to cascade from it's bun and flow freely like the tail of a horse. "Look at her..."

"I see. But no!...and she's actually a man!" Harlot pushed him aside and lifted Grell's skirt up to show he nether region. Grell squeaked and tried to cover himself, the silver reaper frowned and snarled. "That's not appropriate for you! No, Sir Undertaker! See, even you disagree-"

And then the reaper called Undertaker grabbed the back of Harlot's neck and pulled her away from Grell. "And you say she's your child and you have her in such a dirty business such as this...you sicken me." He cast her aside, the ladies screamed and suddenly burst out of their formation, instantly running away from Undertaker. Grell backed himself against the wall, everyone respected Undertaker and yet some grew to fear him. Grell felt intimidated by him, he wanted to swat him away, the older reaper made Grell feel like a weak woman.

_Mother was right._

When Undertaker extended a hand out to Grell, the redhead stared at it as though it were to grab him as well. He shook his knees as Undertaker gently spoke to him,"Come with me."

"...with...you?" Grell asked dumbly as if he was learning the English language. He continued to eye the man's hand, his eyes fallowed up his arm and then to the Undertaker's face. But...the twist came to Grell when Undertaker suddenly had Raoul's face. The silver hair was gone, black strands of hair had braids at various parts, a feather or so were weaved into a couple ends._ Wait, this isn't my memory._

"Yes, with me," Raoul said, the British accent was gone and replaced with a sly Southern American one. Instead of the neat and proper trench coat, an extravagant sapphire long coat was draped over those slimmer shoulders. Green eyes became amber and a slight beard was left unshaven at his bony cheeks. He wore a warm smile though eyes told that what he offered to Samantha was something that only benefited himself. Speak of Samantha, Grell glanced down to find that his red dress was gone and swapped with a white one. "Woman like you can't be runnin' from her husband on her weddin', it ain't good luck there."

Grell tried to speak but felt his voice change to an actual woman's, it was Samantha,"But...mister, Papa only wants...wants me to marry, the Knoxs got more money than Papa can ever make with tobacco."

"...he'll murder you in your sleep, I guarantee you. Being violated, you don't deserve that at all, you lady...not at all," Raoul sighed,"you deserve a man who will care for you, for everything, your needs and wants. Anything. I can give that. I can give you anything you want, anything you please."

Grell tried to weigh the pros and cons, though he knew that the words he spoke and the thoughts he thought were not his. This was Samantha's own memory. He tried to distinguish between the two and was successful in doing so. But he had a hunch that eventually he would loose control. He will start seeing more of Samantha than himself, and that wasn't a good sign. He felt Samantha move a hand to her stomach. "...I want this...I want this outta me."

Raoul raised an eyebrow and reached a hand to Grell's belly. The man felt around, then he smiled widely with a wicked twinkle in his eyes. "A precious form of life...and you want to cast it away. I can't do it for you because of my morals, but I can halt the process-"

"HEY! GET YOUR DAMN HANDS OFF MY WIFE!"

"Ronald!" Grell cried out. Ronald's been involved with her before?

He heard Raoul growl,"Not good," and then turn to hiss at Grell,"Do you accept to be my servant? For your services, I'll grant you any wish besides that thing bastard child that grows inside of you."

Grell trained his eyes at Ronald. He was dressed as a typical groom. A black tailcoat trailing behind, black silk slacks, black vest, white dress shirt, and a red bow made Ronald look a lot like William in a way, though he lacked glasses and green eyes. He seemed to be quite firm and strict, a trait William had. For some ungodly reason, Grell wondered what changed Ronald so drastically, Ronald was not...well, Ronald. He wore a snarl that made his handsome features quite fearsome.

Raoul ground his teeth and waited for Grell to answer, but then he saw Ronald whip out a knife from behind his back. "He'll kill us!"

"You...not me," Raoul murmured,"die here right now? It'll be a pure shame, I was going to grant any wishes you want besides the ones that thwart your services to me..."

The bride looked at Raoul with eyes wide. "Any...wish?"

"Any-"

"Kill everyone that attends this wedding...I want them dead for what they done."

Ronald was close, he was shouting for their attention but Samantha had decided to take a different demeanor that showed she had no concern for Ronald's advancement. "YOU, GET THE HELL OFFA HER!"

"And what did they do?" He asked calmly.

"Everything that made me who I am today...wipe away the life I had here."

The dark haired man laughed hard, he reached into his coat and pulled out a revolver that was loaded prior to his meeting with Samantha. Grell watched him put the barrel to Ronald's head and then pull the trigger, Grell looked away as Ronald lurched back and then collapsed onto the ground, dead, with a bullet hole to his forehead. Raoul smiled wildly and pushed Grell into a closet with firm instructions,"Stay here." He left the door a crack open and walked away, boots pounding against the hard tiles.

Grell was in the dark, he was quiet but he was crying. He couldn't tell if it were himself or Samantha's tears running through but he was definitely loosing himself. Grell tried to close his eyes but he still saw the horrid images of Ronald being murdered like a dog. In truth, he was approaching Samantha and Raoul like an animal, perhaps he was one in his former life. Again, what made Ronald change? His prayers were answered when he heard the familiar voice of Eric Slingby.

_Eric was here? What...is this seriously what Samantha saw?_ Grell peeked through the crack and saw Eric examining something in thin air. He's looking at Cinematic Records. Eric was not a day younger though the only difference was that he hadn't bleached his hair nor had it in cornrows. Maybe staying at the States taught him a couple things in hairstyle. Eric put a cigarette to his mouth and smoked it casually while finishing up reading Ronald's life.

"Ronald Knox, Baton Rouge, Louisiana, Confederate States of America. Born July 4, 1848. Died March 5, 1862 of...hnm, what's it called?...nah, just say bullet to the head." Eric was still as lazy as ever. "No further notes."

He was ready to collect the last bit if Ronald's soul until the blond realized that the soul refused to leave the body.

"Oh, c'mon, I got work to do!" He groaned. "...wait a second..." He pulled out the rest of Ronald's Cinematic Record and left the soul in the body. A few moments passed and the young blond was breathing erratically. "Well, you lucky son of a bitch, you get to live." Eric was ready to return the Cinematic Record to Ronald's body while using his death scythe to slice a few memories off, it was a standard procedure to make a new reaper forget his death and a few years prior to it. As Ronald began to awaken, he sat up while feeling his his head, the bullet suddenly popped out from his skin and clinked to the floor. "Man, you really took the bullet..."

"...the hell are you?" Ronald asked rudely.

"Eric Slingby, a grim reaper...and you're Ronald Knox, you're one too...c'mon, get up, I'll show you what I do for a living...well, more like for a deathing, I dunno, something like that."

Grell wanted to get out of the closet but then the door shut and everything went black. He heard distant screams and then he fell to the floor out of shock of what was happening both in his mind and in the outside world. "I got you," he heard William whisper in the back of his mind. Grell tried to craw on all fours in the darkness. The dress wasn't helping at all but he trudged on with determination. He felt himself entering a blank space. The ground seemed to have vanished and he found himself floating in nowhere.

It was black, blacker than the depths of the ocean and much more sinister than the bottom. "...Will?" Grell spoke timidly, his voice echoed.

Then William called to him,"Are you in a black space?"

"...yes," Grell answered, he looked around. There was nothing.

"Good, that means I managed to put a wedge between you and Starveling's Rip. Now...it'll sound a bit gruesome but I just stabbed you through the chest."

**"WHAT-"**

William spoke firmly and loudly,"Relax, you'll heal the minute I take it out. It's the only way I can separate you two. Since I did a majority of the work and you managed to get yourself into this spot, you'll be alright."

"Well, where am I?" Grell tried to swim but he went nowhere. He decided to stick in his little area.

"It'll be hard to believe, but, in a way, you're inside my special place. This is my soul."

Grell blinked. "...your soul is so...black..."

"Just get out and live," William grumbled.

-...-

Grell was met with screams to his face. His eyes flew open, the scent of smoke reached his nose, the sound of metal against metal and the shouts from William's team resounded through his ears. He was laying on the ground in someone's lap, he looked up to see William looking down at him. The man looked worried, eyebrows creased with anxiety and fear, Grell felt him trembling. "...uhn...Will?"

_He saved me?_

"I thought you were-"

"ALAN!"

_Alan?_ William tore his gaze with Grell to look at the ensuing fight above in the air. When Grell had been subjected to the Cinematic Rip, William had ordered Eric and Alan to fend them off while he attempted to reverse the Cinematic Rips' clutch to Grell. The two reapers weren't fighting Ronald, the boy was simply standing atop his perch, examining his blazer, and yawning boringly. The one who screamed Alan's name was Eric, of course, Grell could only watch what happened next.

The brunette was doing fine evading the Rips and forcing them away from himself; he was the most nimble out of the team, agility wasn't an issue when he dodged every strike of the reels. But a simple slip on a branch and the young man was thrown off balance. He stumbled forward and fell victim to the Cinematic Rips that met him head on. They entered through his mouth and eyes, he began to scream while free falling to the ground. Gasping, Grell struggled to his feet while Eric raced down from the tree's limbs, just barely avoiding the strips of silver.

"ALAN!" He bellowed, he was replied to by Ronald, who laughed hysterically. Eric ignored him and rushed on, he kicked his feet at the last branch and launched himself at Alan. His death scythe was sent away as he, with open arms, skillfully caught Alan in midair. Grell rubbed his newly recovered chest as his chainsaw fell to his hand, without an order or being told to do so, Grell fought the pain and went off with William at his side to keep the other Cinematic Rips from cornering Alan and Eric.

Swiftly, Grell did his best to avoid the Cinematic Rips, a few grazed his hair and skin but he was quick to bring out his chainsaw's rotating blades and slice the said reels into pieces. Clenching his teeth, he knew that Ronald was the one handling the Rips. If he weren't stopped soon then how would the madness ever end? Grell threw a shout at William,"I need to get close to Ronald!"

There was no protest or disapproval. William had probably figured it out himself. He deflected a Rip and nodded for Grell to go, assuring him that he would cover his back. Grell's chainsaw roared even louder as he raced up and around branches and, within a blink of a eye, he was before Ronald. The blond stared at him, his laughter died and he was unamused by the personal encounter of the redhead. Grell landed right behind him, heels digging into the tree with that infamous rock star symbol to his hand.

"Looks like you touched our lives in more ways that one, Raoul!" Grell shouted over the engine. Ronald snarled as Grell swung his death scythe, but then Ronald stepped to the side and fell out of his stationary place. Grell flashed after him, landing perfectly right in front of him. He readied to swing once more but Ronald leaped back and began to sprint towards the Wilshire Manor. The Cinematic Rips lost interest in pursuing the four reapers and quickly fallowed Ronald. The snaked around Grell and left him untouched, the redhead wanted to run once more but was held back by William shouting,"Forget him! Go find Undertaker!"

Within seconds, Grell remembered Alan's condition and how he was struck in the face with a Cinematic Rip. While all of them had left with Ronald, perhaps only one stayed because of Alan. Eric was holding Alan and supporting him as he laid limply in his lap on the grass. William was at their side, but the move he done to recover Grell was probably too risky to do on Alan due to his weak health with the Thorns of Death.

"Go get him!" William shouted once more, he seemed at loss at the situation. Grell nodded and turned his attention towards the burning town of Wilshires.

He remembered Undertaker commenting how things could have been worse with William if he hadn't arrived on time, not that he did much to begin with.

But Undertaker could be anywhere, finding him in such a mess of a town would be time consuming.

If it were anything that the Academy had taught Grell, it would be that doubt was never an option but with the things he witnessed Raoul capable of doing he had a slight doubt that any of William's team of reapers would survive. Grell tried to push away his thoughts as he raced into the inferno that the Vatican Division had started. Again, he had that feeling at the bottom of his stomach. He doubted he could ever find Undertaker.

Things had definitely gotten worse.

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><p>AN: Please don't murder me! I dunno if Alan will live to be truthful! Will Grell find Undertaker on time? Review to find out! Oooooh, the suspense!

And DAMN! Huge plot twist right there! In truth, Ronald looks like America from Hetalia so I thought,"Eh, what the fuck, might as well do it," and BAM! You got Ronald! Honestly, I pictured Ronald being American but jyst trying to hide that away to be a part of the British crowd, y'know?

**READ AND REVIEW~!**


	40. It Could Have Been Worse IV

Disclaimer: I don't own Kuroshitsuji

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><p>"Under!" Grell wailed amongst the roaring flames. Part of him told that it was useless in finding the madman. "Underta...ahn!...Undertaker!" He pushed passed a Vatican reaper that was reaping a ghost's soul. "Undertaker!"<p>

The man was nowhere in sight. Grell stumbled over a debris and fell face first into the dirt, he tried to rub it off his mind as he clawed away at the ground, his heels dug to push him to his feet. Within seconds he was running once more, dodging and leaping over fallen structures and reapers that carried torches and gun powder. Embers cascaded all around him and the sky had grown dark from the smoke that had accumulated over time, it covered the entire town and blocked sunlight from shining upon anyone.

"Undertaker!" He cried once more, he reached a building that was still intact and pressed himself against the wall for a brief second. Gritting his sharp teeth, he took off once more and ran as though he had never searched for a soul in his life. Trees fell and the ground was aflame at the main street from all the weeds being set with those scarlet flames, horses whined and brayed, Grell spotted one that was tethered to a post but ignored it as the building above it collapsed on top.

The screech of the poor animal caught some of the men's attention, prompting one to roar,"Don't tie the horses to the buildings!"

Grell moved about just in time to have a rider dash passed him, the main street was in utter chaos and no sign of the mortician came to view. Wiping the ash of his cheek, then he saw a glint of silver in the flames ahead of him. He took his chance, it had to be Undertaker! Grell took off once more, and without hesitation, he flew through the dancing flames like a lion at the circus and ran shouting,"Undertaker!"

His guesses were right, Grell sighed in relief as the silver man turned around with curiosity in his eyes. In his hand was a torch, he chucked it at a barrel that was situated under an inn and the entire building combusted from the large explosion. Several ghosts swarmed out like ants while a duo of Vatican reapers came to reap them. Undertaker smiled at the sight and addressed Grell,"What brings you here?"

"A-Alan...Alan," Grell coughed out,"the...Samantha's Cinematic Rip, it went after him when we were fighting an-and...look, it's eating away at his soul!"

The smile was cleaned off his face, he was grimacing at the possibility of Alan's unfortunate, well, misfortune.

-...-

"Bu...nuh...ah!" Alan squirmed while stammering whatever he was trying to say, Eric held him close in his lap, he tried to restrain the brunette from shuddering uncontrollably. William could only watch as he squatted next to him. It was like watching the owner of a beloved pet holding their precious companion, trying to give it comfort while filling up one's own mind with empty lies. _No, not pet and owner, not servant and master, damn it, Will, these are actually people. It's..._

Love. The entire pet and owner was a poor metaphor to make out of Alan and Eric. They were the closest pair of reapers in the entire London Division. They try to keep their relationship subtle, not that William sensed anything other than holding hands and kind and worried gestures passed on through one another. Like Grell giving Eric advice earlier, William thought that the two would have to step up their relation to another level before -God forbid- what would happen to Alan.

"You'll be alright, just...just hang in there, Alan," Eric softly said, Alan's breathing became labored.

William would have gladly helped Alan but there was always that already ill body that would serve as a grave obstacle to him. The stunt he pulled off on Grell was one thing, i was easy because his body was healthy. Alan had the Thorns of Death. Locking souls with him was highly risky, contracting the terminal sickness was the last thing William would want. _For all that is holy, William, if Alan could have reaped you before you would have contributed to the Thorns._

His train of thought was broken when Alan violently trembled, his eyes opened wide and silver wisps could be seen dancing within those vibrant orbs. Of course, the Thorns. While the disease was as evil as it were, they were fighting against the Cinematic Rips. Perhaps Alan's shudders were a responce to the internal battle between the two malicious parasites. Even Eric noticed this, Alan convulsed in his lap once more.

"Ah, no worries here, the Thorns have already claimed his soul for its own. It's just a matter of time before his body rejects the Rips...eh, he's the only one out of all of you that's not vulnerable to Rips..."

The two men watching Alan looked strait up at Undertaker, he stood before them, his Cheshire grin splashed across his face while a clearly windswept (more like fireswept) Grell came up from behind. Undertaker waited for a response but they remained quiet, but the aura Eric released clearly said,"Yeah, so the Thorns are fighting, it doesn't mean it's making him feel any better," but Undertaker snickered the feeling away while getting to his knees to touch Alan's sweaty cheek.

"For all I can say, his soul is being bounced back and forth between the two. If this keeps going, both the Thorns and the Rips may take a physical toll on him as well..."

Grell rustled around and went in front of Eric to see Alan panting. The brunette's eyes shut closed and he suddenly stopped moving. "So this is normal?" Everyone doubted that it was a good sign, hell, Alan laying and dying like an animal wasn't a good sign of his condition. For all they knew, the Thorns of Death would have gotten worse with the Cinematic Rip mixed in with him. "And physical toll to say-"

"You'll see his own Cinematic Records coming on their own without a death scythe is what I can make it simpler. My advise for this is to connect souls with him and protect him, but that's too dangerous. Who know what will happen? His body's been a battlefield for years, someone who can fend off both Rips and Thorns should go to his special place and fetch him..."

"Like a knight would to his princess? How cute...as simple as it may be, I assure you, it's no walk in the park," William said with a frown,"it's suicide to do it. Grell was one thing but Humphries-"

"I'll do it," Eric stated, though it was an obvious action for Eric to do so (it wasn't news for him to be protective over Alan) his statement made their heads turn up. The death scythe that was left carelessly on the ground beside him was taken to his free hand. As Alan began to once again spasm his enture body, Eric quietly spoke,"Just...I'll take care of him, just go, all of you. Go after that mother fucker that did this." No one moved, they all refused to leave. While he was second in command next to William, he had no authority over anyone regardless how much power he had. Eric leered at everyone, his teeth bore with a feral snarl, he sounded like a beast rabid from hunger.

Savagely he lashed out at William with his death scythe, the superior reaper was pulled back swiftly by Grell. The jagged teeth of the saw missed William, it barely grazed his blazer but was enough to cut a sew stitches off the edges. Undertaker leaped away and got to his feet as Eric dangerously threatened once more.

"FUCK OFF FROM HERE AND LET ME TAKE CARE OF HIM! THAT FUCKER ISN'T GOING TO FIX THIS WITHOUT SOMEONE _FUCKING_ HIM UP FIRST!"

"Eric," Grell murmured, the three were a few feet away for safety but then Eric gently placed Alan on the ground and tore after the closest one. Grell shuffled away while William extended his pruning tool to block Eric's saw from reaching Grell. A few explosions came from half a mile, Undertaker gave a low whistle, Eric roared once more, only to have William give a well-placed kick to the gut. Saliva spluttered from his mouth as Eric recoiled and fell to his knees while clutching his stomach. He wheezed and huffed while glaring madly at William, Grell hid behind the man and peeked over his shoulder at Eric.

"First off, language, it's a wonder of where Ronald gained that nasty habit," William began to correct Eric's offenses, he adjusted his glasses,"second, there is no way that you are experienced with Cinematic Rips to this degree." William approached Eric and kicked him in the face. The sickening crack of a nose popping, or even breaking, out of place even made Undertaker wince. Eric howled and grabbed his nose, attempting to fix it. "Third, with the self-control you definitely do not have, I say that you don't proceed with such a risky task. You are to come with us, Undertake-"

Eric retaliated and fought the pain to stand up on his knees and slash out at William. Again, he missed flesh but instead he successfully knocked William's glasses off. William still stood there, unmoving, then he spoke once more,"Well...if you insist...Humphries death would not be my responsibility. Grell..." The redhead didn't need to be told what to do, he came out of hiding and fetched the glasses for William. The reaper brought those important spectacles to his face and adjusted them accordingly. "...I'll leave Humphries to your care...just as it should be I suppose..."

William, with cold shoulders, stepped away from his spot and left Eric sitting there with a hand over his bloody nose. Undertaker gave a slight frown but then returned his signature smirk when Grell skipped over to join. "...honestly," William uttered.

Undertaker giggled impishly, it even disturbed Grell. "What's so amusing?"

"Not much...when was the last time Will and I were here? A few centuries back? This place looks better dilapidated than all spiffed up...I could tidy a thing or two." William extended his free hand out and a book materialized in his palm, Grell leaned against William's shoulder and peeked over at it. "Oh, now? Of all times?"

It was a book written by the late Richardson. _The Official Reaper Dispatch Etiquette._ Basically a standard rule book regarding the Dispatcher's proper ways of reaping. "...I want to know whether it's illegal to assault superiors." Undertaker's jaw dropped to the ground, literally, as they neared the gates of the once glorious Manor. Like the gates outside of the town, the metal became nothing but scrap and barely hung to the rusted hinges. They walked on up the weeded cobblestone path. Several arches formed over the path, each holding a post that used to hold flags and other decor that gave the Manor its prestige.

"Reading rules can keep you organized," stated William, but his voice waved in its firm tone. He seemed to show some sort of withdrawal in his speech, Grell exchanged a worried glance at Undertaker but the silver man looked the other way.

Grell's nose wrinkled. Ever since he had his eyes switched for Samantha's, other senses of his reaper body increased tenfold. Either he had a knack for sniffing out dead or dying reapers or he just began to hone those skills as of late due to having adrenaline rush after adrenaline rush. Perhaps the rapid events slamming into his face made him even forget that he hyperventilated half the time and yet failed to notice. Grell sighed, Death was nearby and yet he himself, out of the two men acting like escorts to a palace, was made purely of Death.

_They_ were all dead and yet he could smell Death's mark.

The scent became a stench as they approached the entrance. It was a grand as it were in the Everto. A large structure with walls eroded away from the weather towered over them, several windows were smashed to pieces and strips of black rags hung from various parts as though someone were marking various positions to be stationed at, vines overgrew the edges though if sunlight were to penetrate through the smoke above their heads the vines would have looked welcoming, and the doors that lead to the other side of the fortress like wall were large enough to fit a wagon.

William sent away his book and fixed his glasses once more, Undertaker stalked behind him for some ungodly reason though the latter payed no mind. "...the last time you and I were here, we found my entire staff of servants dead in the courtyard behind these doors. Pray tell I have to live through that once more..."

Grell's nose twitched. A sinking feeling befell him as William and Undertaker approached the doors and, with slight difficulty, managed to pry them open from their three hundred year old shut in. Something didn't feel right, it was like that the whole trip up the cobblestones. William was the first to calmly walk in, tidbits of rubble cascaded around him but he walked on through a large hallway that lead to the courtyard. Grell walked side by side with Undertaker, who lowered his mouth to Grell's ear and whispered,"You smell that too?"

He nodded. "There's dead bodies up ahead, aren't there?"

Undertaker's smile faded away and his flimsy mood dropped. If anyone could place a temperate measurement to mood, Undertaker's happy 73 degree F. mood dropped to -30 degree F with dread. The jostled Grell to the side and rushed to approach William, but it was too late. William stood in front of them a good feet into the courtyard. It appeared that he was frozen in place.

Grell shook his head and squeezed his eyes, he rubbed his eyelids and then took off running for Undertaker, but the man had been brought to a dead stop as well. "It can't be that horrible," Grell spoke out, he was looking at Undertaker, the mortician ignored his optimistic remark and had his eyes trained, not at the courtyard, but at William. Grell fallowed Undertaker's eyes and saw William still standing in place, body less rigid than Undertaker's. Grell decided to take his main focus to the courtyard but his shoulders slouched and his mouth was wide open, he slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle his dramatic gasp.

Bodies. So many of them.

There was no doubt that Undertaker would have been the richest mortician in London if someone were to commission him for coffins.

Strewn all around them in the courtyard, which was large enough to hold seven horse-drawn carriages, were bodies that were skewered to chucks of useless flesh. Grell turned around in a full circle. Dry blood splashed across the walls suggested that the unfortunate people were murdered execution style. Grell took a step forward but then his heel stepped on something squishy, he looked down to see a rotting hand. Grell's eyes grew wide, he wanted to scream but the pure terror of the courtyard had stifled his voice. He only took erratic breaths before shuddering. The pools of blood were dried as well, though in the corner, where most of the bodies were, ravens were busying themselves at the rich flesh offered to them, they picked away at a body whose been picked on before. Bones were beginning to show.

The stench of rotting corpses sickened Grell, he wanted to run out but, as if Undertaker read his mind, the morician's hand grabbed his shoulder and held him in place while keeping his gaze upon William like a watchdog. Grell felt tears form in his eyes as he stepped over the hand, his red coat was near to glazing the bloodstained ground and flesh that had already molded. Ravens cooed and clucked beaks, they eyes the three reapers tentatively as if waiting for them to drop dead as well.

"...who can...who can do all this?" Grell stammered, he searched around but still stayed where he was. Tire tracks were made every so often, the guess was Ronald or, in other words, Raoul. Slowly he tore his eyes away from the corpses just in time to see William's grip falter upon his precious death scythe. Then the grip sharpened and he brought the death scythe forward, he pierced the stone ground and dug the shears deeply into it, embedding it and testing to see if it would move. Grell eyed him, scared enough as it is, what wonders could William do?

The death scythe was only three feet long in length, the jab into the ground with William's strength was enough to keep it there. When he made sure the death scythe was in place, he stepped back and, with a tap of his foot to the handle of the pruning tool, the bar extended, jutting outwards towards William's throat. Grell was frozen in place as well but was subsequently shoved once more by Undertaker's larger form. he silverman grabbed William by the collar and was just in time to pull him out of the way that the clippers made.

Another second and William would have beheaded himself.

Still extending itself, the death scythe continued on though it was the least of their concern.

William fought against Undertaker's hold and was successful, he fell to his knees and grasped his head on either side as if trying to restrain something that was threatening to burst out into the open.

"COMPOSE YOURSELF!" Undertaker shouted, though it was small in comparison to William's piercing howl of agony.

**"Ah!...AH!...AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"**

Grell's heart nearly skipped a beat, and it did, the events of the passed hour had flashed too fast for him to go by. As William had done, Grell slumped to the side and was unconscious from shock.**  
><strong>

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><p>AN: Next up chapter will not involve Grell so much, it'll be Will-centric mainly so don't expect a flashback from Grell.

Also, archs that come in parts such as Part I, Part II, Part III, etc. are a set of one whole chapter. I only broke down the huge chapters into parts since it's more convenient for me. So "It Could Have Been Worse" is going to come in several parts, keep in mind that it's just one whole giant chapter!

Gah! I'm loosing reviews and hits! Thanks to all of those who support me still!

**READ & REVIEW**


	41. It Could Have Been Worse V

Disclaimer: I don't own Kuroshitsuji

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><p>They came in flashes for William, he swore he saw his Cinematic Record play before his eyes in numerous flicks that it make him loose his mind. Voices rang through his head, at every pulse of his heart, a freeze frame of his life came to view.<p>

He saw himself at an alter with a woman dressed in white, her red hair tied left free to flow. She was dainty and fragile and yet pure with every breath she took. God, she was beautiful.

But the image was ripped away from him by one in which she was at the alter once more, she was laid upon the stone slab, dead.

A demon's voice came to his ears, he chased after it for years.

William saw the faces of dying and the screams of the living. Hands stained in blood, he walked on through the burning flames.

He lived a life of chaos. William knew that. Heartbeats increased and the flashes went in blurs, each event being vague. But he knew, from whatever he could collect from the past, that he slaughtered many. He ran massacres through quaint towns until his clothes were dyed red from blood that coursed through the rivers. Warnings from other nobles, ones that used to support his worthless cause, stated he had grown mad, madder than the average man addicted to lead.

_"Father, I suggest we stop this...before all of England goes against us."_

_"Not until I find that creature..."  
><em>

William even ignored his own child when they returned from a meeting with the King and Queen of England.

_"We strip you of your title as Baron and we strip you of your land from your family. For the sake of our great country, we pray that the once Noble House of Spears will be forever erased from history."_

This only spurred William to go on. Without a name, accusations were hard to press on the man, so he continued to assault those around him. Without protection from the Crown, rules were never needed to be fallowed. William became his own Baron, with no leader to serve, who was going to punish him? No one could punish William, it was his motivation to continue his killings, he lost his wife, he lost his land, and he lost his power.

His only rule was to kill. Never stop killing until the hatred that quenched him was extinguished by the sweet reward of victory of the one creature that ruined everything for him.

That wretched demon. He was after him for so long. As he lost money from funding his own forces, greedy nobles that learned of his poverty abandoned him. He was truly alone, no power over others and no one to stop him from going his furthest. Only a few remained loyal, very few that knew the truth of his madness. A handful of servants and his sons. They were the only ones who understood him and yet he pushed them away. Sure he kept them by his side but he never realized what they could have done to save him from that fateful day in which he had truly lost whatever he had left.

-...-

-June 7, 1492-

William finished his mug of ale and slammed it on the hard wood of his desk. A mat of hair, overgrown and uncared for, sat upon his head and partially draped his shoulders. Split ends prevented it from growing any longer and the grease and oil that built up the past month or so labeled him as a stray dog that had lost its grip to reality. His eyes were bloodshot from the sleepless nights he slept. His other hand gripped the wood of the desk, leaving marks that were carved into it by his nails.

But amazingly, he managed to speak with such an even tone, it left the man garbed in nothing but a black trench coat at unease. William's eye twitched slightly, the white pelt of the deer dangled from his shoulders, in actuality, besides his pants, it was the only thing that covered his bare chest. It was so early in the morning for William but he managed to stay awake.

"Morning to you...Undertaker," he began quietly.

Before him was Undertaker, his black uniform had not a single piece of lint upon it and his hair was brushed and trimmed neatly. Compared to everyone in the town outside the Manor's walls, he stood out like a sore thumb. Not for the fact that he had silver hair or he wore all black, but only because he caught so much attention with his clean appearance. William was a stark contrast to everyone else as well, after all, he had an obsession to keep organized. But at the moment, so early in the fucking morning, all he had was a white pelted throw to cover his upper body the best it can.

William let out an exasperated sigh,"I never thought that you'd exist...I've heard stories of you near the river, as legend should go you're here to collect my soul..."

Undertaker gave a slight nod to him and a hand stretched out, a book materialized out of thin air. William's eyes went wide.

"Don't say you're a wizard!" William exclaimed, but Undertaker snickered,"I only come as a warning then leave, it's fun to mess with humans...but you, you're a special human. I've had my eye on you since you were born, heh-"

In a blink, William whipped out a knife and threw it at the silver haired man. Undertaker simply allowed it to be embedded into his arm but was merely tickled by it, such a feeling was evident when he chuckled warmly. With another hand he pulled the knife out and chucked it to the side, William stood up, he kicked his chair aside but then Undertaker held up a hand to signal him to stop. "You...demon-"

"Ah-ah, not a demon, Spears. Now...listen, you'll die today at exactly the moment the sun disappears behind those hills to the West. Trust me, from wherever you are, you'll see it set." Undertaker adjusted his glasses casually and sent the book away, William was still at awe at the seemingly easy magic Undertaker performed without hesitation. "...I never went to anyone strait up and told them how'd they die, so just use the information I gave you to it's fullest-"

"You gave me a time but nothing more! How can you call it information! ?" William shouted. Footsteps from the hall outside his door were heard, Undertaker gave him a smile and suddenly vanished into thin air. Was William seeing things? He never knew Undertaker as a divine being, but he could be a demon, therefore, he failed to take his word seriously as the door flew open.

A woman and man came barging in, one a servant and the other his middle son. She was dressed into fine material though the design of her outfit told him she was nothing more than a servant. Her breaths were ragged and her hair was in array from being undone from a bun. The son beside her had a stark contrast to William, he shared more of his mother's trait, his hair was black but shined red in the sunlight, he had more femininity to his fair complexion but he had a somewhat firm build to him.

"Lord William!" The servant blurted out, she scampered in with a letter. "A message bird came for you!"

"An...And Father!" The man's name was Laird. "The...the Earl of Phantomhive waits at the bridge, Shelton rode out to meet him!"

William walked around his desk and was instantly handed the letter. "...unm...so the Queen's Watchdog stands at my gate then. I'll give the a much more proper welcome to them myself." As if Undertaker's warning was nothing more than a false prediction, William failed to see the coincidence in Undertaker's statement and the apparent arrival of the Phantomhives. "Bring back Shelton and fetch Garland-"

"Garland left as well, he...he fled the second he saw their forces...he took his child with him...Father, there's so many!" Laird nearly yelled. "The nobles that survived, the ones that were on your side, they come after for our heads-"

And then an arrow flashed through the window. The servant woman screamed.

Laird had a shocking look upon his face. William's eyes went wide.

The arrow pierced him through the chest, it was at his heart.

The young man dropped. His head hit the edge of a table as William rustled to the ground with him, holding him in his arms. Laid shook until all movement stopped. That was the first death. William, having spent so long being a cold-hearted man, was at lost of how to react. He clenched his fist into Laid's clothes then released him, he gently laid him on the ground and instructed the woman crying to watch over him. William quickly took off his fur throw and rushed to his room.

It was down the hall, next to the tower that Garland secluded himself from time to time with criminals. He burst through and grabbed the nearest sleeved shirt, he threw it on himself and swiftly went to the closet to pull out a pair of boots. He slipped them on and saw the sword on the mantle. He took a pause in his movements to grab it and buckle the holster to his waist. Normally he would dress much more cleaner but there was no time for that.

He felt death coming to the town, it came in distant shrieks. Servants ran passed his door, he ran to the nearest one and reached out to grab a young boy. Luckily it was the stable-boy. "Fetch me my horse!"

"Ahn! Y-Yes, my Lord!" He squeaked.

-...-

He rode out towards the bridge. Already, he knew why Garland fled so readily.

On the other side of the river than ran under the bridge, hundreds, possibly a thousand, men stood side by side with their horses. They were lined up along the sandy banks, each man waiting impatiently. William noted some at the front to be some of the other noblemen that fought along side him for his money. Now, with Phantomhive being the richest of all, they turn against him for the hopes that their services will be of higher pay. William's horse skidded to a stop.

With the rush he gave to the stable-boy, his horse was improperly armored, only bearing his saddle and bridle, she looked like a regular horse. Compared to the men that were dressed ravishingly with frills and jewelry, with weapons sharper and deadlier than his own family sword and a lance, William looked nothing more than a desperate peasant going against an army. Without a name, of course he was a peasant.

"So...where's the Earl Phantomhive? !" William cried. "I can't tolerate him being late..."

There was no answer.

A meeting was a meeting. No fighting made until the one who summoned him would actually be there.

Then steady beats of a horse's hooves against dirt came to his ears. The platoon in front of him began to roar with laughter. William wondered why, perhaps it was his appearance that made them laugh. "How-"

"Baron William T. Spears of Wilshires, or shall I say former?" William turned his horse around to see a man garbed in a blue cloak, he wore a hood to cover his face and the strings tied his cloak together to conceal his body. He rode upon a black steed but William noticed that it was fidgeting, he looked at the feet and saw the mangled body of Garland. He was unrecognizable by face but only by his bloodied clothes and hair. The poor man was hung by his ankle, dragged along by Phantomhive's horse like a creature hunted for game. "Hurts to see a loved one dead like this, doesn't it?"

William was stunned. If Laird hadn't brought a single once of terror, Garland had given him a new kind of anger. It was the raging kind, it was old but felt rather new to him. "Garland," he breathed in his gasp. His hand gripped the reins to his mare tightly and the lance was at the ready. Phantomhive laughed.

"By order of the Queen of England, we are told to eliminate former Lord Baron William T. Spears for his crimes against the Crown! Also, to be our prize, Wilshires will be under our control! Of course, why would we want the home of a man who terrorized Northern England, yes? Better to destroy it. Your men abandon you and fight along side us, the only defenses is that pitiful fortress and a handful of women. Honestly, you used to do great duties to the Queen...what happened to that?"

"It's none of your concern," William snapped, he kicked the sides of his mare and charged at him, lance brought forth and ready to pierce Phantomhive's heart. But then an ungodly force made it go off to the side, he missed by an inch but it was too late to turn back. He dropped the lance to the ground and sped off to town. From behind, he heard the command,"BURN EVERYTHING!"

-...-

"How did they do this?"

The bodies of his servants were scattered about in pieces. He wondered what man had the sanity to even do any of this. But William pressed on. He left his horse by the gates, he even removed her saddle and bridle, he even slapped her hind to tell her that she was free of any servitude for him. Then he turned back to face the bloody mess. His boots squished the flesh and splashed in the pools of crimson liquid. Above him, the smoke from the fires had risen, blocking out sunlight. Then he saw a figure suspended at the arch of the entrance to the building.

He quickly approached it to see it was Shelton. As much as he were young and playful, he still looked that way, even in death. William couldn't tell if he done this to himself or someone forced him to do so. Shelton was a rational boy but William thought he too would kill himself, given the circumstances of how he lived on. William brought out his sword and sliced the rope, causing Shelton to fall into his awaiting arms.

"...you're the clever one," he murmured. He considered copying his son's action. And he was going to either way.

William laid him off to the side and went in to his Manor. Things were relatively normal and quiet but William trudged on, knowing that it was utter chaos outside. Screams were heard but he ignored them.

-...-

He found himself at the tower. It was a quaint room, a bed, a few furniture here and there, and even a weaving loom sat in the corner. William walked off to the window to see the damage so far. And, obviously, it wasn't improving for the better. Buildings were lit aflame, many were howling with laughter or pain. His home had truly become Hell. Being unable to bear it any longer, he rather die by his own hand than towards the blade of that filthy dog named Phantomhive.

Sooner than he expected, William found himself at his study room. His white pelt laid on the floor next to Laird, the maid was gone but he was sure he spotted her in the courtyard with the others. William looked at the window, clouds covered the sky but only a speck of it was shown touching the hills to the West. It reminded him of something but then he shrugged it off. His mug still sat there with ale. No, that's not proper enough.

He took the mug and dumped the ale out in the hallway. He grabbed a bottle of wine that was so conveniently placed on a stand. Then he saw a clump of plants on the ground, they were purple and looked like tiny helmets to a knight. He picked it up and examined it, realizing it to be monkshood, a highly poisonous plant, he took bits of it and squeezed the juice into the wine bottle.

Slowly, with weary eyes, he poured himself a cup of wine into his mug and went to sit at his desk. He placed the wine and mug in front of him and stared at it blankly. Should he do it? He could surrender and pay time for his crimes. But then how would he live? Everyone wants him dead.

_...wants me dead._

He might as well finish their work for them.

"Hnm..."

There was not much of a choice left for him.

-...-

Undertaker instantly slapped two hands around William's head, covering his eyes, and pulled him close so that his arms draped around William's shoulders to hold him in place. William didn't bother to trash about or fight against Undertaker's hold. The yells from him ceased the moment he was shaken out of his trance. William stood limply in Undertaker's hold, his legs were weak, he felt like a newborn filly beginning to walk on its legs. Undertaker huffed when he felt tears to his fingers, William was actually crying.

"They died," he moaned out weakly,"they all died, they're dead...all gone..."

"So you did feel remorse for them then," Undertaker mumbled, releasing his hands and arms from William, he turned him around to face him,"it took this to get you to cry, huh?" Undertaker looked down at him, his important glasses were smudged and removed from his face. A sleeve was brought to wipe away his wet face, Undertaker sighed and brought the man into a hug. "...just listen to my voice, those memories will go away..."

"I still...I still see them..."

Undertaker sighed once more,"The Baron's dead, that's not you anymore-" He swayed slightly since he almost lost balance on his knees. He still kept a firm grip on William. He pushed William out of the hug and had both hands on his shoulders, clasping them tightly and and shaking him until William's head lobbed up to face him. "Listen, I can either leave you here to watch over Grell or you can come with me to go after Raoul and fix this...which to you prefer?"

"...Grell?" William whispered, his eyes were glassy, he looked ready to pass out.

"Yes, Grell, Grell Sutcliff," Undertaker repeated, he made a gesture towards the fainted redhead on the ground.

"Charlotte-"

"No, Grell, he's Grell."

"...Chalo-"

"GRELL FUCKING SUTCLIFF, DAMN IT!" Undertaker shouted, a hand was brought to slap William across the face. They were running low on time, who knew where else Raoul could be? He could be watching them in the courtyard right now, they were particularly vulnerable. "Get that through your thick head! Charlotte's gone! I reaped her! She's gone from your reach! Fuck!" Undertaker reached out for Wililam's death scythe and brought it to William's chest. "I shouldn't have given them back to you...not yet..."

William continued to stare at him, those eyes were pleading, lost, confused. William looked as if he ran through Hell and back. And he did. The things he saw were like a splash of boiling water to the face. Too hot to feel the pain but enough to make him melt to nothing. Undertaker gritted his teeth and brought the sheers to William's chest, the pruning tool sliced through clothes and through his skin. In a blink of an eye, Cinematic Records came pouring out, William's eyes closed as Undertaker took a hand full of strips and brought the clippers to sheer slice them.

The Cinematic Rips squirmed about in Undertaker's unyielding grasp, the original film instantly shifted back into William. The younger reaper limply slumped to the side, unresponsive to Undertaker.

"So you made him an absolute killing machine by numbing the pain that he has by using Rips, you're a smart reaper..."

"Raoul Sylvestre," Undertaker murmured softly. He looked up from William to see Ronald standing at the door with a malicious smile. His expression was contorted with madness, an insanity in which Raoul had placed upon the body. "Y'know...that's a nice name, French, yes? Means...unm, I forget." Undertaker saw that Ronald dragged a body behind him, with eyes squinting, he found that it was Raoul's body. Now he understood why Raoul switched his soul with Ronald's. "...would you care to release Ronald's body? Blond doesn't suit a man like you..."

"So what is a man like me fit to be?...Undertaker?"

"...a man dead, that's what," Undertaker snorted, he was sill at his knees, he left William's death scythe in William's chest and summoned his silver sickle. Ronald laughed,"That's quite sad...if you destroy this body with that nice death scythe, even if you manage to release my soul from this body, you won't be able to save your precious Ronald Knox-"

"Who said I was going to destroy your body? !"

The Cinematic Rips that wriggled in Undertaker's hand were released, they encircled William but then Undertaker swung his metal sickle, it stopped in a mid-arch, the pole pointed strait at Ronald. A brief moment of stillness came to the courtyard, the suspended Cinematic Rips held still before shooting out at Ronald. They whirled and intertwined with one another as they bolted over to him, hissing with the hopes of consuming a soul in their anger.

Ronald sneered and waved his own hand to summon Samantha's Rips, they met and clashed with William's Rips but were instantaneously shattered by the raw power that those older Rips radiated. Undertaker roared with a sickening crackle of laughter,"You think those will save you! ?" Ronald's arrogant feature suddenly shriveled to fear, he dumped Raoul's body on the ground and began to back away. Then he turned around to run, only to be too late when the Rips came into contact with him.

"Oh...oh God!...OH GOD-"

Undertaker giggled and boomed,"THERE IS NO GOD TO SAVE THE LIKES OF YOU!" And as Ronald screamed and squealed like a swine up for slaughter, Undertaker broke once more into hysteria. "Heh...eh-heh...ah..ha..." His teeth bore like that of a wolf's as he howled harder than he had before. The more Ronald begged for mercy, Undertaker was spurred to go on further. "...UWAHAHAHAHA!"

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><p>AN: My newest fan fiction _The Boundary Between You and I_ does NOT involve the Undertaker from His Scarlet Effect, just saying that. Ha ha, it's inspired by chapter 59 in the manga.

Also, a note on William's sons. Garland was 23, Laid was 22, and Shelton was 21 when they died. William was 38 when he died. To avoid confusion and all that, nobles were wedded around 12-15 years of age so it was common to have a child at such a young age. William and Charlotte conceived Garland child when they were 15 years old.

This is the last part to "It Could Have Been Worse".

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	42. Your Justice is Just an Urge

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji

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><p>Grell awoken to the sound of screaming. Painful screaming. Like an animal dying. That was never good thing to wake up to. Grell slit open his eyes to find himself laying at his side on the ground, beside him was William, he too was unconscious. Grell shyly reached out to him, he looked peaceful in his sleep, a stark contrast to what was happening out of view. A finger brushed a tuft of black hair, it rose to his touch but fell back in place. He gave a slight smile and slowly got up, that smile vanished when he saw Undertaker laughing the hardest he could ever hear him do so.<p>

Silver light danced ahead, those shrieks were coming from that light. Then Grell sat up properly and saw Undertaker on his knees, scythe thrust forth, head lolling back from his hysteric movements. Undertaker seemed to be enjoying the show in front of him, Grell fallowed his gaze to see Ronald withering to the ground, laying there and twitching violently and begging for mercy. Cinematic Rips were attacking him left to right and all around him. Some had penetrated his body and were eating away his soul.

"Undertaker," Grell uttered. Ronald let out another heart-piercing cry that sent shivers up his spine. He was beginning to see the amusement in it. He even giggled slightly but then something felt wrong. He brought a hand to adjust his glasses but suddenly remembered that he never wore glasses the passed week. Grell's eyebrows rose a tiny bit, then he remembered.

He still had Samantha's eyes.

Raoul had always taunted Undertaker of not being able to destroy his physical form due to it being Ronald's, but then he remembered that he was willing to risk his soul to do anything. That man gloated about being literally untouchable. It made sense for Undertaker to use Cinematic Rips to destroy Raoul's soul, it was the only option he had, but if Raoul was gone, who can give him back his eyes?

"Stop," Grell hoarsely spoke out, but Undertaker ignored him.

The longer Raoul was exposed to the Rips, the more his soul was eaten away.

"Undertaker..." He got to his knees and then to his feet, he approached the silver reaper and placed a hand to his shoulder calmly. "...stop this."

Undertaker whipped his head around. If this were a horror story, Grell imagined that he intended to turn his head around a full 360 degrees should he have the capability. His maddening grin was plastered to his face as he looked up at Grell. There was something amiss about him, as if he had took mercury poisoning and became The Hatter from that classic child's story Grell had read about. "Why stop? I was just getting started! See! ?" He waved his hand and another Rip entered Ronald's eyes.

Ronald screamed once more.

"That...that, my beautiful redhead, is the sound of insanity. That right there..." He pointed at Ronald while giggling manically. "That...is what I call justice for me, justice for you, justice for my brother, justice for everyone that had ties to him-"

"Well, your justice isn't going to get me my eyes back now will it! ?" Grell shouted, he quickly threw himself at Undertaker, causing the death scythe to loose control over the Cinematic Rips and allow them to run loose. They halted in their mission of devouring Raoul's soul and slowly receded from his body, floating aimlessly without any order from Undertaker. Grell wrestled him down and managed to pin him down as he tried to voice reason to him,"There are loads of reapers in the London Division that have had their body parts switched, just like me and every other Division-"

"So you mean to say we traveled all this way to simply fetch that piece of shit and bring him back to London Division with us? ! He murdered my brother, I want him dead! Dead, I tell you! You can't trust him! Even if you do let him live, he'll run away! Besides, his original body has an arm hacked off, you think he'll be any use to us? !" Undertaker managed to knee Grell in the stomach and send him flying face first against a wall. With a loud thud, Grell left an imprint and then fell backwards. "I'm the Leader of the Council of the London Division now, Grell Sutcliff, I have authority over you now!"

Undertaker rolled off his back and to his stomach, he used his death scythe to aid him to his feet, Grell groaned and placed a hand to his forehead as Undertaker commanded,"I give you the order to stand down so that I can finish off Raoul and this madness..."

Grell pulled back his hand to discover blood as Undertaker ranted on. He touched a spot on his forehead and brought his full hand to his eyes, he saw that there was more blood. He failed to feel the pain but now his entire face hurt. _Oh..fuck no, he did not just-_

"Killing him is the cure to the chaos!" Undertaker cried madly, he seemed too damn proud of himself. For once, he was acting out of irrationality.

The redhead slowly got to his feet, in doing so, he had a wicked smile. His sharp teeth shown and he was just as mad as Undertaker. "If you destroy Raoul Sylvestre, how can anyone possibly live properly without their bodies being whole? ! After all, the body is the most beautiful part of a woman, anything added or removed and the originality is gone for good," he quoted smoothly,"obviously, you're a man...you'll never have a full understanding of it. You are going to let Raoul live long enough to fix all this himself, can't you remember what Eric said? At first...uh..uhnm..."

He summoned his chainsaw and at it at hand. Undertaker raised an eyebrow, was Grell seriously going to pick a fight with him? He has Cinematic Rips that could end him in five seconds if he ordered them to eat up his soul quickly. Undertaker grew quiet, yes, revenge clouded his mind but someone has to die before the day ends itself or else traveling here would be a waste of time and effort. He wasn't returning to the London Division empty handed.

"He said, in quote,_'That fucker'_ being Raoul _'isn't going to fix this without someone fucking him up first'_, at first I wondered why he would say that. Alan was attacked by Raoul, God knows if he's still alive or not now, and Eric's nature would be to kill Raoul in five seconds...but if you really think about it, he said 'fix this' and that means fix everything. When he says that, he meant for us to scare Raoul shitless, just enough so that he would work tirelessly to give back our body parts. Eric never said to kill..."

Undertaker continued to smile,"You forget that I'm the mortician...I deal with souls, I can fix this myself-"

"Then tell me whose eyes I have you freak of nature!" Grell yelled at him while pulling the cord, the chainsaw roared to life, thirsty for a good fight. Undertaker failed to answer. "I thought so...now, if you want me to castrate you, I can do it the minute you send those Rips to Ronald again!" Grell sprinted over to Ronald's side and waved away with his death scythe at the Cinematic Rips so that they would steer clear from him. "Besides, whether you decide to or not, it'll be the same, I'll still strip you of your manhood..."

"...hnm...why's that?"

The older reaper knew that Grell was trying to provoke him, he might as well play around with him, show him what he and William had spent their lives fighting for. While his tragic story happened so long ago, another one had came, this time, it was caused by someone he could torture with his own eyes. Undertaker brought himself to a defensive stance. While Grell was doing his best to make him move first, Undertaker knew Grell was the impatient one.

"Why, you say?" Grell mocked him, a heel was brought back, he was readying himself as well.

The assumption was right when Grell failed to hold himself back any longer. Whatever spurred the red reaper had obviously pissed him off beyond belief, Undertaker doubted that he was fighting for the sake of the London Division. He threw in a wild guess as he smiled up at Grell when they met with their blades locked with sparks flying.

"WHY! ? YOU MARRED MY FACE, THAT'S WHY!" He shrieked.

_Of course...**that**..._

-...-

Eric was quiet. Listening to Alan'a grunts and groans, it was just painful for Eric to watch him. He took deep breaths. If he was going to save Alan, he would have to take the risks that he weighed heavily in mind. He cared less, he was going to have to have face both the Cinematic Rip and the Thorns of Death. His saw was ready to slice through until he heard the shrilling cries of horses and proud jeers of the Italians come close, they seemed to be done with their task and were allowing the town to burn out on its own.

"There they are!" Came a shout from one rider, he wore a mask over his entire face, it muffled his voice.

"You...you gotta help me!" Eric begged them. In truth, he needed guidance for these kinds of things. He was never experienced enough for this kind of handling of Cinematic Rips, he had seen William do his share of the more complex work earlier but Eric only learned the basics of how to create them like any other reaper would know. "You just...just help me out!"

Alan squirmed once more and his eyes shut. Eric instantly held his flailing hand. The men around him chorused with laughter.

"What the fuck-"

"Undertaker killed two of our men, it's only fair if Signor Marcello kills you two," answered a random reaper of the Vatican Division," compensation is all..."

Eric squeezed that hand tighter when he felt it try to tug away from his grasp. Four reapers or so dismounted their horses and, with ropes at hand, literally pulled away Alan from Eric, they dragged him by his ankles while Eric shouted for them to return him. He held more taut to Alan's hand but it slowly slipped away from sweat formed at his palms. "ALAN!" Eric scrambled to crawl but two of the reapers standing by his tackled him down and kicked away his saw.

They began to tie Eric down with his wrists behind his back. His face was shoved into the grass but a rough hand grabbed a clump of his bleached hair while another pair came to blindfold his eyes.

"What you can't see won't hurt you, English pig," snorted the owner of the hand holding his hair.

Eric trashed about in that hold but eventually the weight on his back lifted. Someone grasped the collar of his shirt and forced him on his knees, he coughed and gagged as they jeered at him. He growled but then roared when he heard cloth tearing. They can't possibly be doing what Eric thought they were doing!

"YOU SICK BASTARDS!" Eric let out that feral snarl, his voice nearly cracked as he heard zippers being undone. His hands struggled against the bounds of the rope. He felt them burn against his wrists but he continued to fight them. A small strand snapped. _Those idiots, they used regular rope?_ Eric felt he had the advantage, just as attention was lost towards him, he eventually tore away at the weak fibers. They snapped under strain as he brought one leg up and kicked himself off the ground and towards the nearest person.

As Eric would be called a lucky son of a bitch, he lunged for the leader, who was chuckling at the amusement of his men beginning to enjoy themselves, Marcello and tackled him to the ground. His saw was a foot away, he took a hold of it and, within seconds, the jagged teeth of the death scythe were pressed against the back of the other reaper's neck.

It all happened so quickly, Eric was panting, not from the exhaustion but from the adrenaline rush from something so close to him was in great danger. Eric saw Alan limply laying there with a reaper atop him and straddling to to keep him from trashing about; his blazer was ripped open, along with his vest, then his dress shirt was shred apart, but what got the blond reaper going was that there was a gloved hand at Alan's belt and was in the process of undoing it. Eric let out a furious snarl, a cornrow to the side of his head was undone during his restraint, that deadly sheen to his eyes made several reapers back the hell away from him, his disheveled appearance made him look like a true madman.

Eric heard Marcello squealing under him, Eric mocked the Vatican reapers,"And you say that we're the pigs."

"N-no," Marcello whimpered, he swallowed some dirt and began to cough. His hands were in front of him but any attempt to push himself up would lead to an instead pressed the teeth into the skin, he dangerously growled,"You already know what I'm asking-"

"Y-you heard him!" He stammered more than ordered with fear filling his voice. The reaper that was on top of Alan instantly slid off him and receded away from him. Within a blink of an eye, Eric rushed away from Marcello and went to Alan's side to hold him close once more. He was on his knees but the saw was out and ready to dismember anyone who came at him within a four foot radius. Anyone can bet that he was pissed as fuck, he was protective and he wanted to show that to them. Marcello was helped up to his feet by a fellow reaper, he brushed the dirt from his mouth and patted down his once white cloak, it was now singed at the edges.

Eric eyed each of them, challenging them to fight him but they had passive looks behind their masks. Marcello adjusted his bird mask and cleared his throat,"I...uhnm...suppose we can kill you without having our fun... men..." More reapers got off the backs of their horses and immediately encircled Eric and Alan. "Kill them."

Swords were raised above their heads, then strips of silver burst forth from Alan's eyes. They were the Cinematic Rips but there was something off about them, yes, they had that silver gleam but a sinister power radiated from them. Yells came from all around them, soon the yells became screams, the Rips were suddenly latching themselves to the reapers surrounding the two. Marcello watched in sheer horror as his men dropped, one by one, like flies with Rips instantly burrowed themselves into the eye sockets of the others.

Eric looked down at Alan and noticed that more Rips, more that entered, were emitting from him, it was a sure sign that the Thorns of Death overpowered the Cinematic Rips but had done something to manipulate them. With any guess, Eric would say that they were tainted with one of the many vengeful souls that had attached themselves to Alan. But it was pure madness of how Alan's smaller form was used as a battlefield for the two most deadliest parasites a reaper could contract with.

More screams, the last of the Cinematic Rips had left Alan. The younger reaper's head rested against Eric's lap. Faces contorted with excruciating pain around him, Eric blocked out their voices and trained his eyes to focus at Alan. He couldn't move his body, he would have to wait until he was well and awake to stand up on his own.

"Withdraw! Withdraw!" Marcello shouted while trembling to those who were unaffected. They nodded and grabbed whoever was possessed by the Rips and fled as fast as they had came, they went off to the woods with their horses, it was a possibility that they held a camp there. Once more, it was quiet with Eric holding Alan in his lap, but the brunette wasn't squirming or groaning, now he was resting peacefully with even breaths that sounded he was finally content with himself.

The skies above were smeared with gray from the smoke, the fire was still going on in the abandoned town though a wind blew into the blow the fumes away from the two. Eric sighed, he was now exhausted and could have used a rest himself.

He heard fighting in the distance, he guessed that the others had met up with Raoul and were fighting for Ronald's soul by now. Eric didn't feel like he wanted to be a part of it anymore, after all, he only gotten involved for Alan's sake. His interests were little to nothing regarding to what his friends were pursuing, besides, he lost his attention in Ronald years ago ever since he graduated the Academy. The kid could take care of himself now, and Eric only acted under orders from either William or Alan. So long as Eric had Alan alive and well, then Eric would be alive and well.

He laid his saw down next to him, the handle within reach should something happen, and summoned a book to his palm. With his free hand stroking Alan's hair, he used his fingers to find the marked page of his book, he picked up from where he left off and waited for Alan to rouse himself from sleep.

"...tch, told them I'd take care of you," Eric mumbled with a huff, a spot of blood suddenly dropped from above, forever staining the page. Eric looked up to see the leg of Ivan's horse was still in the tree. "...oh shit..."

Eric blankly stared up at the dismembered limb.

And then he remembered the reason why Alan was involved in the mess as well, he was doing it for his precious little sister Heather._ Raoul exchanged body parts between reapers. We hadn't even found Heather yet._

Going after Raoul was Alan's interest, he had no intention to kill him, it was only to find Heather. Now it became Eric's interest as well. Sighing, he sent away his book and death scythe, that brief period of rest was blissful for him but he decided that he should go on to the Wilshire Manor and carry on Alan's original mission. The roar of Grell's signature weapon was heard over the crackles and dying screams from the fires, Eric got to his feet and carried Alan in his arms. There was no chance in hell that he would leave Alan by himself.

"...uh...nmh...E...ric?"

Eric strode up the cobblestones, he glanced down at Alan once more to find his eyelids fluttering open. He went to his knees and, ignoring the pain from the sharp stones that pinned through the sleek cloth of his trousers, cradled him. A single thought crossed his mind, Alan looked half asleep but he was rather adoring the way he was, all curled up into his chest. Eric was quiet for a few seconds and, quickly, he stole a chaste kiss from Alan, with that, the brunette's eyes flew completely wide with surprise at finding himself in such a position.

Eric smiled at him. "Looks like you get to live..."

"..." Alan blinked several times. "...Eric, why did you just kiss-"

Thunder rolled in the distance, tiny drops of water suddenly came upon them, drizzling them from the heat of August. Alan flinched and remained in Eric's strong arms, the blond gave him a reassuring look and got to his feet once more. He carried him as if he were a maiden, Alan blushed furiously. With a fire behind them, a fight before them, and thunder clapping around them with an impending rain, it wasn't what one would call a very romantic situation. Eric spoke but his words were blared when thunder clashed close by. But Alan swore he caught snippets of what he said.

"W-what?" He asked shyly. The confused look told Eric that he was confused and also oblivious to what had just happened to him.

"I said I love you."

If Alan's eyes went wider they would have popped out. Eric was averting his gaze, he looked slightly bashful as well. They spent years giving subtle hints and yet they never came around to actually say to one another those three words. Alan was left speechless, Eric gave him another smile and began to walk towards the scraping of metal against metal.

Water droplets became heavier by the time Eric entered through the main gates. A veil of gray obscured the fight though a blazing red could be seen dashing to and fro. For the first time in their shared silence, Alan spoke, his voice echoed through the hallway.

"...I can walk now...don't worry..."

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><p>AN: They have a right to worry, y'know...London Division is counting on Grell if they want to repair themselves, ha ha. I wonder if Grell is aware of that.

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	43. Shepherd's Lament

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji

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><p>Rain washed away the blood off of Grell's face, he shown his teeth to Undertaker. As much as Undertaker was fighting irrationally, Grell was only retaliating to get back at him for damaging his beautiful face and to also protect Raoul. Well, mainly because of gashing the skin, Grell could only think of how much of a brute he was. He pulled a tiny lever to his chainsaw and its speed increased drastically. Grell leaped over to the wall and kicked off his heels to launch himself at the silver reaper with his death scythe ready to be swung once more.<p>

Undertaker took a few steps back and easily avoided Grell, the flurry of red landed right beside him but Undertaker took a boot to his side and sent him flying with a surprised yelp. "You think I care for a whore like you? !" Undertaker growled, he pointed his sickle at Ronald and the Rips rustled before going after Raoul. It took Grell a few seconds to figure out that the silver man needed concentration and a death scythe to control the Cinematic Rips.

"No!" Grell murmured, he charged at Undertaker once more, this time, his blade was directed at the mortician's arm. Undertaker immediately withdrew his arm and hissed as Grell flew by, landing with a bit of a skid to his heels, he was in a squatting position with his death scythe slicing into the ground. Grell whirled around, unearthed his death scythe, and flashed by once more to strike and miss Undertaker.

_What is he doing?_ Undertaker stepped away with every assault, at one point he had his bangs sliced cleanly off, revealing his brilliant emerald eyes that were intent on seeing Grell's next attack. The rain had thickened around him but the dancing lights to the right shown that the Cinematic Rips were waiting for his command. Just as Grell leaped overhead, Undertaker gritted his teeth. _So he's not letting me use the Rips, smart reaper...bloody whore figured it out._

Undertaker had a fondness for playing, he can waste a few minutes playing bullfighter with Grell being the toro and him being the matador. He noted Grell's swift movements becoming sluggish, probably from his red coat weighing him down with all the water it soaked up so far. Grell was quick to easily strip himself of it but only spared a moment to drop it over William to cover him from the rain, not that he was already soaked enough. His white dress shirt instantly absorbed water and was plastered to his skin.

Grell inhaled once and then ran after Undertaker's arm once more, engine roaring over the thunder. Oh, he was just too close for comfort but was with a hand's reach. Grell breezed by but Undertaker's other hand reached into his cloak and pulled out his trusted rusty scalpel, he twisted his body to the left to avoid the rotating blade's teeth from cutting his arm off.

Another screech of heels against the now blood soaked stonework of the ground and Undertaker stood around to wait for Grell predictable routine to pick up once more.

"I have enough of this, too boring and not amusing, you're a very repetitive reaper, y'know that?" Undertaker sighed quietly, his blood began to cool. If he timed it right, he could just add a blemishes to his face when given the chance, his lips curled with another bloody idea. Grell paused, hesitating, but then ran streaked after him once more, he couldn't risk Undertaker from destroying Raoul. As much as he hated the man, he damn well needed him to replace his eyes. Undertaker failed to withdraw, Grell's heart danced with delight. _Finally, he slipped up!_

Grell drew closer until a glint of rust came to his face. Then it came to his eye, his right eye. Undertaker stuck something sharp there.

"Foolish woman," he heard Undertaker chuckle.

The most agonizing feelings he'd felt in his life were nothing compared to the sharp pain that radiated from the right side of his head. Grell's breath hitched as he swung his legs forth to grind himself a halt, his other hand pushed against Undertaker's death scythe in a sorry attempt to push himself away, and he instantly dropped his death scythe, the previously preoccupied hand shot to take a hold of the wrist that was flicking left and right, causing whatever object that was embedded into his eye to delve deeper.

He screeched in pain.

"You wanted those pretty eyes back, right? Well, this is how you get an eye out! You stir it up like soup until it turns to liquid, then you drain it out! Then again..." Undertaker pushed the scalpel around in Grell's eye socket. Blood spluttered out from the popped eye, a bit dotted Undertaker's face, his tongue went to lick it away with a twisted smirk."...I only practiced on dead bodies...once an organ is out, I know not how to put it back in~!"

"Ahn! Ah!" Grell was too scrambled, both physically and mentally. The pain was too much, he felt himself beginning to numb when Undertaker wrenched away the rusty scalpel. Grell dropped to his knees and crouched over, his leather gloved hand covering his eyes. Blood poured profusely, only to be washed away by the heavy rain. Undertaker pocketed his favorite tool and kicked away Grell's chainsaw to ensure that the red reaper wouldn't fight him again. "You monster!" Grell cried in torment, he felt Undertaker's hand go to the back of his head and pull him up to his feet. "N-not again!"

Grell kicked the air as he was lifted a foot off the ground. Undertaker bore his teeth like a wolf would.

"I used to be a shepherd back then, when knights and princesses were the reality of things," Undertaker sighed, he tossed Grell across the courtyard, he slammed strait into the wall, the structure collapsed all around him from such force. Undertaker stalked over to him, death scythe off to the side and languidly carried as though it were a toy. Grell landed on the ground with a thud, his front bloodied and his face bearing a busted lip. "I grew up as a peasant while Richardson was raised as knight of the good King's army. I lived a simple life compared to William...damn nobles, think they can do anything? You know the fun part? Richardson was enlisted into the Spears' family...hn, I never liked that family."

He grabbed Grell's hair once more and chucked him at a wall diagonal of the one they were at. Grell was barely conscious with all the throwing around he was subjected to. He went headfirst into the stonework and was ready to pass out any second. Anyone who saw swore they heart his skull crack.

"The number of men grew low when the Spears were told to go into the Crusades, I earned a letter that Richard died of an accident during training. You know what the _great_ Lord Spears told me?" He spat maliciously, he clutched Grell's collar and held him up like he would to a newborn pup. The redhead's face was smeared with warm, wet blood but his head hung low, it was unable to be cleansed by the rain. "Told me to fight! I wasn't but a simple shepherd, and yet the man went off and massacred every man that had a family to force men into his army! I was no exception!"

This time, he threw Grell to his feet; the redhead rolled and skittered away from him.

"But even when I hung myself, the Council decides to have me collect the Crusaders! No matter what, I was still forced to fight! I hated the bloodshed!"

With his back turned, he failed to notice Alan and Eric running behind him, one stopped by William while the other approached Ronald, who had passed out from the shock of being subdued by the Rips.

Undertaker strutted over and knelt down to Grell, his tongue had a hint of spite to it when he hissed,"I was a peaceful person, y'know, taking care of sheep and watching the grass grow and my family grow along with the land. The only time I killed was only when a black sheep appeared in the flock." He smiled. "I hated killing others, I'm just saying that being a reaper wasn't my cup of tea but that's what you get when you loose faith in God and yet have that determination to stay and avenge yourself."

He flipped Grell to his back and gathered both his hands to force it above his head. Undertaker took out his scalpel once more and dug it into Grell's other eye. Unlike before, he done it slowly. The dull tip sliced through the open orb without mercy. Grell screamed once more, Undertaker was amazed that he had the ability to stay awake for such a long time. Grell violently kicked his heels on the ground but he felt Undertaker's weight atop him, unmoving from where he was.

"William is a black sheep turned wolf, I thought your fiery attitude would get him into trouble at the Academy, I was surprised to find you return alive with that soul you two collected." Grell's voice grew hoarse, his scream cracked until it died away. "Only, you came back as the same freak...hmph, such an odd thing you are. Unique, I admit, but a bit more stronger than him. Tell me, Grell Sutcliff, had there ever been a time you were an innocent lamb?"

Grell said nothing but his mouth was moving with lips twitching and being inaudible. Thunder clashed above, flashes came to Undertaker but he cared less. "Thought so."

The mortician dug the instrument deeper, Grell withered some more.

"It's amusing seeing you like this," he darkly chuckled,"seeing you as the Red Riding Hood about to be devoured by the scary wolf, except that there's no hunter to save you." He withdrew the scalpel with a sickening pop. Fluids streamed from the rust and dripped to Grell's face. "Pathetic slut..." He got up and flicked the scalpel in the rain to clean it. "There, you can stop complaining about your eyes."

Grells hands were free, they instantly covered his face once more, he curled up on his side in his spot, whimpering and wallowing in the rain.

"William's blood owes me for what it had done to make me who I am today-"

"Then...why did you make him to a reaper? Why did you allow him to make whatever deal you done with him?" Grell dryly asked, his voice returning though it was strained with pain. His mouth was open, taking in small gasps and water and blood from the ground to quench his thirst. "Why put all the effort...into making him...when his blood is the one that destroyed you?"

Undertaker paused in his steps, his silver hair plastered to his face but then slipped off when he turned his head. He snarled as Grell took another breath to speak,"You have Raoul to torture...and you're not doing a thing to William. You could kill him right here and now along with me...it'll be the most beautiful death, dying in each other's arms. But...I just want to know why did you do all this?" Undertaker's mouth opened to say his piece but Grell went on. "Or did you come to care for him?...you keep your enemies close is what they say, right?"

"...just shut up and die, I only chose you to be William's partner-"

"With the hopes that he'll kill me?...I'm sorry, but pure reapers are hard to get rid of," Grell murmured. His hand fumbled his pockets and he took out a pill dispenser. Three of the last pills came tumbling out to the ground, Undertaker's eyebrows creased with frustration but decided it would be no use in venting out his anger at Grell. He turned around and left him there, his attention was on Ronald and another form that was standing by.

It rained even harder, the view became nothing but a haze, Undertaker took his death scythe forward and pointed the tip of the pole at the two forms. "Best you get out of there William!" Undertaker boomed the warning but thunder clapped over their heads, it blurred his words._ At least I warned him._ _How the hell did he get up so fast?_ He waved his hand and the Rips quivered in their places before shooting down for their pray. They were so close to the body but were sudden deflected with a clang of metal. Undertaker waved his hand once more but there was another deafening scrape of metal, along with a couple sparks flying.

Undertaker, enraged by the failure of William's Rips, charged to the man he believed was preventing the said Rips from carrying out orders. His death scythe was readied behind him, the squatting figure was in his line of sight, Undertaker shouted,"I'll end your misery now, boy!" The squatting figure tried to jump out of the way but was too late. As he turned around to face Undertaker head on, the sickle made a diagonal slash across the poor man's belly with blood instantly lining the walls. Undertaker smiled at his work as the person fell forward without a single scream, landing at his feet. "...damn you to Hell..."

Blood poured from the clean incision, Undertaker went to his side and kicked him away. The body rolled off and away but then the silver mortician had a sudden dread in the pit of his stomach when he saw a death scythe on the ground. Sure, it was a pole but the end of it was a cleaver instead of a clipper. Undertaker fallowed the blood fallowing the body and lightning flashed once more to reveal the pale-stricken face of Alan Humphries and not William T. Spears.

"A...Alan?" Undertaker stammered, eyes wide. He dropped his sickle to the ground, it landed with a heavy thud as he stumbled over Ronald, only to fall to his knees by Alan's body. Tears rose as a trembling hand went to roughly stroke Alan's cheek, his hands were instantly coated with blood when they reached to his stomach._ The rain, the rain, I couldn't see him in the rain._ He heard the familiar voice of Eric off in the distance but Undertaker gathered Alan in his arms, lips shaking and body shuddering from the immense guilt that had overcame him.

**"ALAN!"**

Undertaker heard footsteps coming to him but he ignored them as he faded into nothing with Alan in tow.

-...-

Birds chirped happily at the park by the office buildings. A few more seeds were scattered and the little creatures bounced over to pick them with their beaks. Heather giggled at the adorable chirps that signified they were happy with her offering. She scattered more seeds for them and they gathered them once more. The sun was setting, and with fall coming close, most of these birds were readying themselves for winter. She thought it would be nice to have a break from the chaos in the Everto.

How long had she stayed there? A good two years, ever since Samantha came to instruct her as a tutor at the Academy. Heather tried to push away the events that took place long after that. Her cheerful smile began to waver at the thoughts of the reapers who undergone those horrible surgeries. She remembered watching more than she could count, she remembered how his face contorted with sweet sadistic pleasure at his latest, twisted creations. She wondered how on Earth she managed to get by, perhaps being influenced by the Scarlet in her diet forced her to become a numb being. But with her memories coming back now, she couldn't help it.

The first time she laid eyes on Grell after his eyes transplant was when she was sent to check up on him. She felt pity for the man. He used to scream in his sleep until he was hand fed the medicine to calm him. Raoul always assured her,"He's just suffering the side effects, don't pay mind to him...why not go play?"

And she did, after all, her womanly body was switched with that of a little girl's. Yes, her soul was kept within a child's. And the Scarlet shaped her mind to become one as well.

Over the course of time, Heather felt drawn to him. She observed him closely, even too close at times to get smacked across the face. He was distant with her but eventually the two warmed up to each other. Eventually he stopped calling her brat.

"You look like a child but you have the voice of a woman, now that I listen to you," Grell told her when he finished his meal. It was a simply scone and water, nothing more or less but the medicine he was given contained the needed nutrition. She thought about that deeply and left him, she approached a strange man in Raoul's study and, with the curiosity of a child, told him what Grell had told her. The strange man named Lacey, who was rummaging through important documents, exclaimed,"I finally found you! Heather Humphries! Can't you remember me? It's me! Lacey!"

At first she was confused, completely and utterly confused as he strapped her to the table with a woman that laid nearby. "...Mr. Lacey?" She asked him timidly, but then everything went blank. She found herself laying in the grass of an open field with the strange man once more. But he didn't feel like a stranger anymore, she remembered him. Lacey of the Interrogation Department, the man who, at times, was taken to her real Father, Richardson Humphries, for random violations.

_If it weren't for Lacey, I probably still be a little girl in the Everto...calling Raoul my father and saying his name as my own. Humphries is such a better-_

"Heather!"

Speak of the Devil, the man had suddenly leaped over the bench and plopped himself next to her coolly. The birds chirped madly and fluttered away at the sight of him. Heather sighed,"You made them go away..."

"Ah, they'll come back," Lacey said, he was more of a care-free reaper but willing to scam anyone for what he needed. He sat, one leg crossed over the other and one arm draped on the bench to wrap over her shoulders. "So, whatcha thinkin' about?"

"...I'm just thinking about how you saved me and possibly every single reaper that was under Raoul," she replied simply, Lacey grinned proudly and remarked,"Well, I am the Hero for London Division. Ha! I'd love to see Spears' face when he finds a statue of me at The Hall! Damn, all those years of being a con-artist and I didn't even con my way into saving all you guys. Hn, there's just any issue with that..." He rubbed his nose with a snort but Heather caught on.

She nodded. "Yeah...the reapers still don't have their limbs back and Raoul is the only one who can sort them out..."

"Yup, and I'm starting to hate my hands...I miss being left handed..." He looked crestfallen but then he suddenly smiled. "Guess this gives me another project."

Heather rolled her eyes. "You'll never stop for attention, won't you?"

"Nah-"

Lacey was cut short when a panicked shout came from across the park. The two looked around and found Kris sprinting to them from amongst the trees, his cloak billowing behind him with an urgent look to his face. "Miss...Miss Humphries!" He cried, Heather suddenly stood up from the bench, she wiped her dress free of leaves that had fallen on to her as Kris came closer to her. "Miss...Miss, I'm sorry to disturb you!" Heather put a hand to his shoulder and his already red face became even redder with a blush to his cheeks. "Unm...ah...Undertaker! He's come back!"

Both Heather and Lacey perked up. "Undertaker left?" Lacey asked dumbly, even Heather never knew of it.

"I...I can explain it to you later! Come, come now! He brought Alan with him!"

"Ala-"

"But he's in critical condition! It's best that you be there with him!" Kris panted, Heather's hand dropped. "I'm...I'm sorry, but...please, do come with me..."

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><p>AN: ALAN!

**READ AND REVIEW~!**


	44. Drastic Measures

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji

A/N: Sorry for not updating, just felt less inspired to write but I'm ok now!

* * *

><p>Evans was an exemplary reaper, he done his best to please superiors and climbed the ranks faster than any other reaper of the London Division. It took only a decade after graduating the Academy, alive, to be at his position now. His wisdom was vast, much as any record keeper should be, regarding the personal history of every reaper that worked under the Dispatch Society and every other Department that was involved in the collection of souls.<p>

Of course, there was some information that was better left unknown. As much as the Council was supposed to house the most classified information, even Evans was restricted from a minority of it. The reaper sat at the past Lead of the Council's chair, he reclined back in it with his feet up on the desk. His elbows were at the handles and his hands were pressed against the other, fingers interlaced, with his eyes calculating the ten books that were spread out on the desk.

He looked up at the spacious office, it was quiet save for the crackling fire in the eternal hearth. The room was decorated with various objects collected from different time periods, a few heads of exotic beasts were mounted on the walls though Evans felt a bit disturbed, having a feeling their eyes were watching him. He breathed smoothly and collected his thoughts of what had happened the passed week.

Repairs to the London Division were quick, damage to buildings were easily recovered from but the mental anguish the poor reapers, either with souls switched or not, faced still remained. Evans ordered every supervisor to remain diligent in their work but to keep mind on not putting too much strain on reapers that worked under them. A majority of their population were just non-working reapers that busied themselves with the industry and raised families or cared for the farmland outside the town. As they were Death themselves, they still had some sort of Society similar to humans save for the technological advances they had.

He sighed.

Evans was never one to look into the personal lives of his colleagues, seeing how their information was the only thing he was prevented from knowing for some ungodly reason, but now that they were gone, who was to stop him from knowing? He took the second largest, which he was given to by Executioner when he traveled down to visit the bodies of those killed, and opened it to a random page. But before his eyes could wander to a random word on the page, the sound of broken sobs came to his ears.

"Hnm?" Evans looked up from the Cinematic Record of Richardson, what he saw made him drop the book and gasp with shock. "What in the name of God happened to you? !"

Undertaker was sitting on the carpet in front of the desk, head tucked low. He was shaking with a small body gathered in his arms, its legs hanging out from its fetal position, he rocked back and forth while sobbing louder. He sniffled and slowly brought his face to show that it going through a mixture of guilt and horror, those once unseen eyes shedding tears of pain. The body had its face buried in Undertaker's chest, but the mortician hand a free hand that was drenched in blood and seemed to be fumbling around with clothes that seemed to be falling apart on the torso.

He bolted from his chair, around the desk, and got to his knees to examine what happened. With a closer perspective and the dim light of the hearth, he saw that Undertaker wasn't trying to keep the clothes together, he was trying to keep the poor sod's stomach together.

"Undertaker," Evans uttered, his hand reached to Undertaker's red one but he refused to move it. A weak, pitiful snivel came to his ears when Undertaker held the two flaps of flesh together. Evans nearly gagged when he saw an organ oozing out from between the skin that wasn't pinch closely. More blood came, it was amazing how much the body could produce, and squirted up at Evans face and hair. He felt his own stomach churn and he wanted to vomit until Undertaker's faint whimper, one that was barely inaudible, rose from his hoarse throat.

"Help me," he breathed,"once an organ is out, I know not how to put it back in..."

Undertaker shifted the arm that supported the body's back, causing the head to roll into the crook of his arm. Evans' jaw dropped and he flew back with a yelp, he slammed strait into the front side of the desk with hands and feet desperately kicking at the floor to scoot away. Eyes wide, he took Undertaker's unsubtle hint and shouted something that didn't even register to anyone's mind as clear words in English. Evans' scrambled to his feet and rushed out of Richardson's office, he didn't dare to look back but his ears betrayed him as he heard a wail that was equivalent to a dying animal.

-...-

"Where is he! ?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but only doctors can-"

"Damn it, that's his sister!"

"My, Sir! Apologies! Come this way! And who's the-"

"Lacey, go and inform Evans that we need to fetch whoever it is at Wilshires, I don't care if it's the Vatican Division, Raoul Sylvestre, or whatever the fuck is going on there! Just gather everyone! I don't care if he...if he sends angels to get them! If Mister Humphries dies, I want to make sure who is responsible for this!"

"Yes Sir!"

The dirty blond reaper nodded and sprinted down the corridor, he bumped into several nurses as he jostled by them to exit the facility.

In the London Division, there are two medical facilities, one in which was known as the Infirmary, located in the West Wing of the Library, for the purposes of caring for lower ranked reapers that resided in the Library's living quarters and the other known as the Hospital Ward (though it was a separate building outside the Library and away from the office districts) where reapers who needed critical care were placed at. At first, the Hospital Ward was used as, well, a medical building where technological advances in medicine were broken through but then individual laboratories were created elsewhere in the town, rendering research to thin out at the Ward.

As research slowed at the Ward, basements that were once used as labs became holding facilities for the insane reapers. Years ago, special cases of maddened reapers were few but time passed and soon enough, Divisions from other countries were sending their damage minded reapers to be treated either forever or never. Soon, the entire building was dedicated for skull-cracked reapers. It became a madhouse.

Security boosted to keep the chaos in one space. Kris thanked whatever forces, more divine than reapers, for keeping the Ward intact during the near collapse of the London Division. Should security have been breached, the entire Division would have been overrun by mad dogs that would have devoured anything and everything in sight. Of course, only a single part of the facility didn't house the mental ones, it was the operation rooms, there, major surgeries were conducted.

Though the Ward was never a safe place to be, only the more (slightly less insane) stable reapers were kept at the upper floors. Every so often, a reaper or so from the basement would wander the corridors if no one was looking and, when no one was_ really_ looking, would kidnap unguarded patients that were recovering in the recovery rooms. These disappearances only happened at night, only at the day time did the Ward seem to be a normal hospital that seemed safe.

In truth, a majority of the Ward was a storage place for the unwanted. Some of its residences weren't even mental, they were just there for the sake of being simply undesired by Society, but that was a fine excuse until something happens to someone. No reaper would return the same way. But when desperate times call for desperate measures, critical care was needed and those who were in need were sent to the Ward, all for the need of one stubborn surgeon that refuses to transfer to a safer place.

With danger lining the inside of the facility, the lone doctor remained to run the operation rooms. On occasion, he would have a team of nurses to aid him but, being at the Ward, he would always need new ones to replace them since they would disappear every so often.

Heather and Kris were escorted through the double doors that lead to the operation rooms. Windows lined the walls of the hallway for observers to watch surgeries, every three windows or so a pair of doors would appear and then disappear when walked by. The nurse was one of the new replacements, she clearly knew of her fate should her guard be let down at the Ward but day hours were safe to operate in. She rounded a corner as she held a clipboard near her chest.

"Mister Humphries," Kris began,"is still in critical condition as I had mentioned. It's amazing he's still alive, in truth, I thought he was dead when Undertaker brought him in from Wilshires."

Heather kept close, toes licking after the nurse's heels. Behind the two was Kris. The nurse spoke,"Sir Evans was very vague on the details, exactly what happened is beyond me, and Sir Undertaker refuses to speak with us. He was a witness to it after all...perhaps one of you can get him to crack open sooner or later because Doctor Wilde is having a hard time sewing his body up. It's best that he came in one whole and not in several pieces, oh, what a nightmare that would be..."

"What do you mean?" Heather gasped, she tried to imagine how her dear brother came out to be and yet, at the same time, she tried not to.

"Undertaker left to go to Wilshires so that he can call back the Vatican Division from killing Ronald Knox. The bastard Sylvestre knows how to switch souls, it wouldn't be too much of a surprise if he changed his with Knox's. From what I can see from Undertaker, a whole lot of shit went down...we don't now if anyone else is alive, but he's the only witness to everything." The nurse lead them around the final corner, she slowed down and went off to the side to allow Heather and Kris to walk by.

"Here we are, Sir and ma'am...patient 534, Alan Humphries." She turned around and began to make her way back to her original post.

The hallway was quiet, a bit dim save for a single window that was a good fifty feet or so that allowed sun's setting light to pour in. Other windows only allowed the viewers to see the operation rooms. There was not much color to the bland hall save for Undertaker, who was garbed in black with his back against the wall, he broke the monotonous sight of doors and windows with his bloodstained silver hair. It was severely quiet save for Heather's heavy breathing from practically jogging to keep up with the nurse, she couldn't help but stare at Undertaker's ragged appearance.

For all she knew, he could have been sleeping while standing. Alan used to tell her stories of how he slept in upright coffins. _Alan!_

She rushed over to the window that Undertaker stood by and peeked in to see four nurses scrambling about. A man blocked her view but through the sound-proofed window she saw one of the nurses carrying blood bags, another was wheeling in a large machine.

"I brought her, Sir," Kris said, but his voice was ignored by them. He looked crestfallen and went around the corner to give the two privacy. Heather tried to scoot around but then Undertaker held out an arm, then she grabbed her shoulder. He cracked one eye open to see her. He licked his lips to moisten them and pulled her away from the window, he brought her in front of him and wrapped both arms around her to embrace her closely.

Heather felt the cold blood on her skin, it bled through the thin fabric of her white dress. She tried to imagine it being water, being anything but Alan's blood. The sun at the window disappeared below the horizon, it became dark save for the lights from Alan's operation room.

"...Undertaker," she said, her hands went to his forearms to hold them. "What happened to Alan?"

It was silent for five minutes or so before Undertaker finally took a deep breath.

"His mother was Claudia Phantomhive," he said quietly,"she died a day before Alan was supposed to be born. So he died with her but...Richardson took him in, made him to a reaper. He couldn't bare to look at Alan though, so he gave him to me. That bloke didn't know what love was until Claudia came along, I was glad she died though...it taught him more about life."

Heather sighed, Undertaker was trying to dance around the question, she asked more firmly,"No...I mean, why is Alan in the room? What are they doing to him?"

"Blood transfusion, they drained Richardson dry for his blood...they'll be asking for mine or yours next," he answered numbly,"Alan got hurt there."

"Why is he hurt?"

"...a death scythe sliced him open..." Her jaw dropped. "No matter how much blood they pump into him, the wound will never close, it's hopeless..." She felt him bend over and bury his face into her brown hair, he was taking in her scent slowly, she tried to shirk away but he held tighter to keep her in place. "Just hopeless...Wilde can't fix him no matter what he does. And then there's the Thorns, it'll make it worse-"

"Raoul used to experiment on reapers, he used death scythes to switch body parts around, he knows how to fix the wound of a death scythe. I've seen it before...he can mangle up anything and then fix them to be beautiful again," she sighed,"those nurses and that doctor, they can't save Alan because they hadn't gone so far in their studies about death scythe wounds-"

"And my apothecary won't work on a severe wound like that," Undertaker continued, ignoring her. Heather immediately wriggled out of his grasp and turned around to face him. His head was low but he lifted it to look at her, his bangs were chopped off in a horrible manner, he looked slightly delusional seeing how his eyes wandered from spot to spot, trying to avoid Heather's determined gaze. She was trying to convince him of the pros that Raoul can achieve if they stopped hunting for him, he seemed too dazed to understand.

She bit her lip, Undertaker tried to speak once more but he shook his head and turned to his side. "Fine, stand here and mope!" She near shouted, she stomped away but a door swung open and slammed strait into her, she fell back to the floor with a groan,"Hngh..."

A man came from behind the door as she got up, rubbing her head. "The noise out here needs to stop! I can't focus!"

He was a tall, lanky man. Horn rimmed glasses were perched at his nose though he always wore those light-blue scrubs that obscured his true body from anyone. A bloodied face mask covered his mouth and nose, so any other features than his eyes were concealed. Like any other aged reaper, his hair was graying slightly from its blackness, he looked almost like Evans if he ever untied his hair from its ponytail. His gloves were stained with blood as well, it suggested that he was either really good or really bad in his occupation though patients were said to come out alive and well. The only issue is them making it through the night at the Ward during recovery.

Heather glared at him. It was Doctor Wilde, a short-tempered reaper that knew his job better than anyone.

"Well, fuck you!" Heather yelled back at him. "You can't do shit to him! He's injured by a death scythe!"

For a bit of a background on Heather, she was quite the opposite of Alan. She tended to be less proper and a bit vulgar when she grows frustrated about anything. Wilde was left flabbergasted at the young lady's speech but he slowly calmed and sighed,"A death scythe, eh? Explains a couple things...some ought to tell me things sooner. Once a reaper in my care gets it in with a death scythe, there's no way I can do anything. Might as well stop the blood transfusion-"

"No! There's one man that can do this! It's Raoul Sylvestre! He can-"

"Sylvestre? The guy who's giving me more patients than I can count? There's no damn way I'd let him in my facility!" He yelled at her once more, and then a nurse from the operation room came outside and whispered something into his ear. "Huh?...oh, I'll take it...you, stay right there!" He pointed at her rudely before slamming the door shut. She huffed furiously as Kris came around the corner, she glared fire at him, as if trying to burn him into ash but he stared at her with such an unreadable expression, it caused her to soften herself. A few minutes passed and the door flew open once more. "Sir Kris, phone, c'mon."

Kris nodded and entered the operation room, leaving Heather to herself though she couldn't stand not knowing what was to come. She instantly fallowed in, despite a nurse's protest, and froze in her spot when she laid her eyes upon Alan.

For the first time, in two years, she had finally reunited with him, though the reunion was anything but heart-warming.

The sight of iv lines hooked to him and numerous contraptions around him, giving life support, were nothing compared to the angry slash that ran across his stomach, leaving it open and exposing his internal organs for all to see. Heather's eyes grew wide as blood from one of the tubes leaked out from his wound, the nurses were desperately tying to keep his heart pumping that precious liquid while simultaneously trying to keep the said liquids in. A tray was near the operation table, atop it was a dish that contained something pink and lacy, there was another dish that held a brown looking object that jiggled with every bump that was taken in by the suspended tray.

The groans and clinks from the various machines surrounding Alan, all of which she had no idea how they operated (Raoul was more of a traditional doctor, only using his hands and never machines), came to her ears. While it was dead quiet in the hallway, it was utter chaos inside. She was overwhelmed by the quick change of the environment. A nurse or so were attempting to sew his skin together but with every stitch they managed to place together, it would instantly come undone.

She heard Kris talking in the background,"Yeah, he's alive." He glanced at Alan. "...barely holding to his intestines..."

_That's what they look like?_ She had seen organs before. This time, seeing her dear brother's innards being out and about on display sickened her.

She had completely forgotten to fallow Kris and Doctor Wilde, she was so transfixed on Alan. Her blood ran cold with the fear of him never making it alive. She began to doubt Raoul, even if he did manage to get to London, would be skillful enough to go through and save Alan. Her hand went to cover her mouth as she heard one of the machines, which was beeping at a steady rate like that of a heart, suddenly went dead with a flat line.

"Fuck," Kris said into the receiver,"better tell those angels to get them quick then...what do you mean they want Ivan? Does it _look_ like he's here? ! Tell them he's at Wilshires! They'll fallow that!"

Kris slammed the phone back into the wall and noticed Heather standing by the doorway. His pale face became even whiter when he watched her slump over and collapse. "H-Heather!"

"Get her the fuck outta here! Damn it! Just pull the plug on the guy, he's not gonna make it!"

"No, I'm Sir Kris of the Council of the London Division, I demand you keep this reaper alive for as long as you can!"

"For the sake of any God that exists besides us, the boy just flat lined-"

"Then go fetch some souls from the Library and feed it to him, damn it!"

Wilde stopped in his tracks, several nurses even paused as he uttered,"But that's forbidden...if I do that, he won't be the same-"

"A strict order! Disobey and I'll have you signed off to Executioner!" Kris shouted, getting to his knees and gathering Heather in his arms. "Get all this shit away from Alan and transfer him to the Infirmary!"

"But he's no where near stable-"

Then Undertaker's voice came into the mix,"Stop protesting the man and do as he says." He had just entered through the doorway, his eyes scanned the room and he instantly waved a hand. The droning hums and murmurs of the contraptions suddenly ceased and he approached Alan. He was quiet and looked strait at the floor instead of the reapers around him, he took a hold of Alan's hand while he offered one to the doctor. "Come with me, all of you...Alan will only have forty seconds exactly to live on his own without these machines...I should have done this instead of waste my time getting Alan to your hands, Doctor..."

The nurses nervously gathered around Undertaker and held the arm that was away from Alan, Wilde hesitantly got to him and took his hand. Kris could only watch in awe at Undertaker as he began to fade away into the air, first being the nurses, then the doctor and Alan, and finally himself. He briefly stated to Kris,"Put Heather to bed, the souls that are going to be used for Alan will only hold off his death long enough for Raoul to come back, it's a long shot but better make sure you ordered those _things_ you sent to bring him back alive," before vanishing himself.

Kris had his mouth open at Undertaker, then he looked at the bloodied mess that was left in the operation room. He closed his eyes, trying to shut out the sight ahead of him and faded away with Heather in tow. "Yes, Sir," he uttered.

-...-

Eric was enraged, he was beyond the point of being able to calm himself. He could have cared less about how Raoul was in Ronald or how he shouldn't damage the body. He had to inflict pain on somebody! Someone has to pay for whatever happened! All he saw was a splash of crimson in the faze of rain and then Undertaker keeling over. Eric tried his hardest to catch up but the man was gone!

A bloody puddle near Ronald made his heart slam into his throat._ I can't cry._

His hand dropped his death scythe on top of Alan's. He knelt down to Ronald, who was suddenly coming to, and grabbed his collar to pull him up. With fist shaking, he brought his free hand to slug Ronald across the jaw; this enticed a surprised cry from the young reaper, Eric punched him once more, his teeth grinding with rage. Impulses took over, he slammed Ronald strait into the wall.

Ronald wheezed when the wind was knocked out of him, he opened his eyes to see a terrifying man that was ready to rip him to shreds without regret. "AH-"

"Who the _fuck_ are you? !" Eric shouted over the rain and thunder, Ronald flinched pitifully as he was lifted off the ground.

"R...Rah...Raoul! Raoul Sylvestre!" He repeated his name as he was thrown to the ground like a rag doll, he landed on his back but he managed to sit up and curl into a defenseless ball with his arms up in submission. "I...just d-don't...no kill, no kill, don't kill." He whimpered weakly and cringed when Eric lunged over, arms out and ready to throttle him to death. Ronald's eyes shut close, he was expecting the larger reaper's weight to come crashing into him but nothing came. "Huh...hn...hnm...uh?"

Ronald opened his eyes, slowly, to see William holding Eric back, though the only restraint was by his wrist. The men fought silently though it was vicious seeing how much Eric's entire arm trembled with the determination to strike Ronald down. Eric's nostrils flared as he fumed, contemplating whether to push William aside and continue on to deliver his wrath upon the trembling reaper before him but before any other thought could be made, he found himself being swung back, back into a pillar.

Eric gagged and spluttered saliva as he lost breath, he fell to the ground and onto a fresh puddle of warm blood. He felt William having his gaze upon him, it brought him back to his senses, briefly, until he took further notice of the blood that he was laying in. Again, he set himself into a frenzy, crawling and clawing the ground to get to Ronald until a shoe came at his face, kicking him off and away from Ronald.

The lenses on his glasses cracked from impact, he grasped the thin frames and tossed them aside. "Fuck!" He shouted, rubbing his forehead and squirming about on the ground in pain. "FUCK!"

"You're lucky that you have perfect eyesight," William said, stern as ever, as he adjusted his glasses. Eric made no other move, he stayed in place but was ready to pounce Ronald should William give him the order. Much to Eric's surprise, William extended a hand down to Ronald. "Get up, I won't let my personal reap a sniveling little coward."

"R-reap?" Ronald stammered, he spat at the hand and whirled around, he scrambled to his feet and tried to run out on them, but then Eric lunged forth and grabbed his heels, causing him to stumble to the ground. "N-no! Sling...Slingby! Eric, Eric Slingby! N-"

Eric pulled his leg down and Ronald slid towards him, the larger reaper pinned him by his shoulders. Ronald's eyes went as wide as a night-owl's and he howled when Eric kneed him between the legs. Hard. William casually walked over to him as he said,"Slingby, do as you may...seeing how this one is a personal and very important soul-" Ronald whimpered loudly when Eric's saw came to view. "...I'll let you slide on the paperwork and overtime..."

"With pleasure...sir," Eric snarled Ronald tried to push him away with flinging arms. He was speaking gibberish by this point, making panicked sounds as he watched the jagged teeth rest upon his bare chest. Eric applied pressure and was about to run his saw through his skin until Ronald suddenly cried out,"Grell's eyes!"

"Eric! Wait!" William barked, the blond was reluctant as he stopped though he still held the blade in position.

"Eyes! His eyes! I...just...if you let me live, I'll fix it, him, everything! Everything that's ever happened! Whatever I can find! Just let me live to fix what I done!" Ronald pleaded desperately, he was quaking under Eric, eyes were frantic as he switched between their faces. "I...a deal! Another deal, what do you say? Huh? Let me live and...and I'll clean up my mess! You got my word as a doctor!" He squirmed once more. "P-please! Spare me! SPARE ME!"

"Like you spared the reapers that were in this courtyard?"

"No! That wasn't my doing! It was someone else, I swear! I...I'd never be that drastic to anybody! Only a cold-hearted killer would do that!"

Eric inched the saw back, causing his skin to slightly tear, he said,"And what are you? A cold-hearted doctor-"

"I give my experiments the proper care they need when I was done with them! Why would I slaughter any one them for my research? Especially when I was so close to creating the perfect body! That kid, Ronald Knox, you ever bother to look at his Cinematic Record when you collected him? Huh?" Eric slight softened as Ronald continued his frantic speech. "I got a hunch he did all that there! He's a bloody killer, you ever seen those poor women back at Baton Rouge? Ever seen those families he tore apart? Well? That's Knox for you! I made a thorough check on his life unlike you, Slingby, and I damn well know for sure that this was his! I-"

"Enough," William snapped harshly,"Eric...let him up..."

Eric didn't move an inch.

"I said _let him up_!"

It was more demanding, very threatening, and if Eric hadn't complied, William would have kicked Eric once more with the intention of breaking his nose. The blond slowly got off of Ronald and sat back and away, allowing Ronald to sit up as well, rubbing his neck with a groan. Within seconds, he went from scared shitless to insanely happy, he sported a smile that made Eric want to hack off his face. Ronald sighed,"So reapers aren't truly animals after all...hnm, it'll be a while before I can give Knox back to you, he's staying in my old one for the time being..." He took and hand out and pointed a thumb at the mangled body that was a few feet away.

"Weren't you cut by Undertaker's death scythe?" Eric asked gruffly, Ronald nodded,"Ah, yes, but I have my secrets...for now, I need a clean place to do the procedure properly, of course, I need my two patients to be with me or else I can't do a thing. Spears, why not you get Grell and Slingby should go for Saman-"

"I saw Grell, you sod, you're trying to get William to go hysterical. You and Spears go get Samantha, I'll fetch Grell," Eric arranged forcefully, Ronald raised both his hands in defeat and managed to get to his feet while doing so.

"Fine, how ever you want me to work," Ronald stated smoothly. William eyed him suspiciously but then turned to walk into the rain he vanished into the haze. "What's he doing?"

A minute passed and he came back with his death scythe at hand. He seemed more confident, even taking the tip to adjust his glasses to perfection, as he spoke,"Extra security against you, of all people I have to deal with. If I sense you take one step out of line, you will forget every leaving the States for Europe."

"Oh, trust me, I already miss it," he replied sarcastically with a head roll. They were quiet for a moment until he pointed at the Cinematic Rip above them. "It's quite dangerous to have them floating by, might not know what they can do..."

"A reaper that creates a Cinematic Rip is the one in control of it, Undertaker just left them there but I think he asked them to stay put until he can collect them, no quit distracting us and start moving," William ordered, poking Ronald in the back. The young reaper finally began moving, leading William through his former home. When the two were gone, Eric balled his hands in a fist and turned around to see a mass of white feathers, he fell back from shock at the sight of them.

His death scythe slashed out into the feathers. "I'm sick of the shit I have to put up with for today! Now I have to deal with _this_? ! Can't you fucks give me a break? !"

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	45. Eye of the Storm

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji

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><p>"<em>Fucks<em>? That's not a polite word to say to your saint."

"Come now, it's a reaper, it won't have a god to fallow if it's one already."

"They're gods?"

The saw went after the clump of feathers once more, the owner backed away without hesitation.

Eric was in array, both physically and mentally. Anything worth breathing. He felt a pair of hands upon each of his arms, they pulled back and kicked him in the legs to force him to his knees. Eric let out a pained groan and dropped his saw to the ground, it fell with a clang to the old stonework and landed at the boots of the apparent ringleader of the gang surrounding him. The rain began to let up, it was drizzling and thunder brewed further away; Eric brought his face up to look at the angel that picked his death scythe to hold.

Each of them were dressed in a fashion similar to Ivan's, they lacked the bulky stature and medals upon their coats, and their outfits had more of a variety in color to them. The one in particular Eric was fixated on, a woman, lacked a heavy trench coat, though she wore a white tunic that had a short skirt fluttering at mid-thigh. There was a large belt that was around her waist, attached to it was a holster that carried a rapier. Sticking to her skin was the sleeves of her blouse that was under the tunic, her long black hair was soaked and plastered to her face from the rain.

The most notable feature were, obviously, her wings, which were white as snow save for a few dapples of gray and black near the limb. Eric glowered, he tried to get to his feet but the ones behind him held him in place. The woman looked fairly young, perhaps younger in appearance than Heather, but she carried a bored and lofty expression that made it look as though she were here out of boredom.

Her speech reflected her careless expression,"Mitchel...who's this one right here?" A man appeared behind her, he looked similar to her though he easily towered over her shortness. He held a book and his lips moved without voice. "...hnm?"

"That's one of 'em...one blond."

"Gimmie." She retracted her wings and allowed them to shrink into her back. Her gloved hand snatched the booklet from him and she got to one knee in front of Eric. She was too close, Eric could have bitten her if she weren't holding the book by his face. Eric saw in the corner of his eye that the page held a mugshot of him. As water droplets fell, it began to soak the pages through, causing some random scribbles in ink to bleed across his photo. "...keep him there..."

"Of course," the two angels restraining Eric chorused. The lady got up and walked off to Grell. He watched her kicked Grell, for he grunted but failed to speak, perhaps it was a way to check if he were alive. Pages shuffled in the distance, then he felt the grip on his shoulders slacken. _Now!_ He thrust his entire body back, the motion caught the captors by surprise and forced them to release him. Eric snarled, a fierce warning to stay back, and they done so, their wings stretched out though they continued to walk back.

With the momentum he gained when he pushed forward and kicked off his toes to get to his feet. He kicked out at the nearest angel, who was too slow, and gave him a firm kick in the face. Eric whirled around, fists balled and near his chest. His attention was on the young woman that was now kneeling before Grell. There was a total of five angels, four of them had swords at hand, drawn and ready to carve Eric.

"If you wish to fight to kill time, go ahead," he heard her say, she threw back her hand and tossed Eric's death scythe to him,"but we won't kill you, we were merely ordered to fetch you and whoever you were with." Eric easily caught the handle of his weapon in midair, he had it at his side though threats from the angels ahead of him didn't seem to cease. But Eric pushed through, quicker than they had anticipated, he didn't even know how he done it but within a blink of an eye he was at the woman's back, he was bent over her with his saw at the side of her throat. She didn't tremble or shirk back, not that she could since he blocked her, she snorted.

"Don't touch him," he snarled, over her shoulder he saw that the pages were turned to a mugshot of Grell. He tried to not look at the actual Grell on the ground, blood poured from his black and white sockets. He tucked his stomach to avoid vomiting though he grimaced.

"We're here to rescue you from this apparent Hell that you all had risen," was all she said, she was so calm,"I say that if you wish to see your little friend again you'll make the wise choice."

Eric gritted his teeth, he pressed the teeth of his saw against her throat. He suddenly roared,"WHERE'S ALAN? !"

"...alive, he needs one that knows how to treat the wounds of a death scythe. If we don't get him quick, I doubt the souls they're offering now will sustain him any longer." She turned the pages, he saw William and Ronald posted on two pages. "Had you seen these two?" He didn't respond. "...I suppose you want your friend to die sooner?"

"They went around back, passed those Rips hanging around the door," he admitted. He heard two angels run out of the scene. The soft pitter patter of the rain on their bodies was beginning to lessen, Eric still held the blade at her throat. "So you're the angels Ivan mentioned?"

"We're looking for him too. Do you know where he is?" She closed her book and tossed it to the one called Mitchel.

-...-

Ronald and William were at the broken down doorway, their shoes splashed in the puddles of water that had gathered in the room, the blond entered first. If he fell a step behind, William would instantly be quick to lash out at him. They were quiet for a moment at the sight of Samantha's body, she was resting peacefully in the damp covers of her bed. William stepped off to the side, he was busy examining the oak wood desk that was covered with ivy and other plants.

William had seemed to forgotten his aggression towards the younger reaper, he found the Cinematic Record sitting at the desk and instantly took a hold of it. "Now how did this get here?" He asked aloud, he wanted Ronald to answer though the blond shrugged as he bent down to pick up the body.

"I just picked it up from Knox's apartment, maybe you should be asking him. You what the ironic part is in all this? Knox caused all this to happen so if you want to blame the London Division's troubles, you can say it was him...that's one reason that-" William aimed his death scythe at Ronald's face. "Oh?"

"Whose fault it is won't matter, I say that it was all yours. I can't wait to feed you to Executioner, I'll say that your soul isn't worth saving and should be in the bottomless pit of that demon's stomach," he sighed mockingly,"but first you need to repair what you had done. Keep your end of the bargain and we'll see what Undertaker says for your-"

Ronald chuckled and began to walk away from him. "Stop putting up those idle threats. I've already created the perfect body that I now have to dismantle, shame..."

"You could have picked a reaper that looked like your wife and Switch souls with her, that would have been easier, wouldn't it?" With Samantha bundled into Ronald's arms, they began to head back the way they came. "I suppose we are alike." Ronald raised an eyebrow when they entered the hallway where only support beams made up a majority of it. "Trying to recover what was lost, spending years trying to figure out why it all had to happen to you, pointing your finger at someone who was responsible. Honestly...such worthless attributes to have."

The blond looked as though William had slapped him across the face. That warm appearance turned into a scowl.

With the rain calming, the tension between the two began to rage once more.

"My life's work is in my arms and you decide to call it all worthless?" He spat. But before a fight could erupt, they were met by a pair of angels flying in between the structure. Ronald's face went pale at the sight of them, William swore that he was trembling out of fear.

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><p>AN: Sorry for the shortness and the delay, I was just feeling a bit uninspired for a bit~!

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	46. Reason

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji

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><p>"Raoul Sylvestre, Baton Rouge, Louisiana, registered witch doctor of the Jackknife Bayou," one stated loudly as they landed gracefully atop a beam that stuck out in front of William and Ronald. The angel that spoke balanced easily on one foot while the other struggled slightly. Their wings were folded in to give room for the two though their cloaks made them look larger. He lowered his hat to give Ronald that steely look, one that William had seen upon bounty hunters.<p>

And they did look like bounty hunters when the two pulled out knives. Ronald was quick to release Samantha, he instantly dropped her over the edge, his hands were instantly up in the air to surrender but William let out a shout,"You idiot!" He attempted to dive for it but an angel had already stepped over the beam and instantly bent over in a freakishly odd manner that allowed him to flexibly grope her hand. The blankets rolled off her limp body as the angel pulled her up to carry her.

Then he wanted to release her, for when he pulled her up, her dress had hiked towards her chest to reveal her scarred and marred body. Metal stitches and other slicers to her flesh, if it were hers, lined her limbs and torso, William thought he had seen enough for the day but the sight of her made him loose whatever bile he had. He threw himself to the side and vomited. His stomach lurched and he failed to look at them.

_Madness, he's just mad. A mad doctor..._

"My God, what have you done to corrupt her so wrongly?" William heard the same angel shout violently, the building shook and a bit of debris was loosened. "What did she ever do to deserve this Hell you given her! ?"

"Would you rather have her birth a bastard child? Her soul was corrupted the day it happened to her! She has no place for this world! You of all angels should know that!" Ronald screamed, the sound of him hitting the floor hard made William finally summon the courage to look around. Ronald was helplessly cornered, scared witless and desperate for an escape. "YOU SHOULD KNOW THAT!" He thrashed about, kicking and screaming like a child. "MY LOVE HAS A SOUL PURER THAN THAT DAUGHTER OF A-"

He watched the angel slit Ronald's face, leaving a trail of blood horizontally across his cheek. The one carrying Samantha was not in William's line of sight, he was thankful as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and warned,"If you cut out his soul from that body, the reapers of Europe will never find peace. Don't let London fall like New York and Baton Rouge, angel."

"...hn..." The angel withdrew and motioned at the one carrying Samantha, he nodded and swiftly sped off to return to whatever Hell hole he came from. William wanted to go after him but the angel held a hand in a halting manner. "You have no worries for that, we're under orders from Executioner and Sir Kris."

William craned his neck to see him better but then Ronald sprung to his feet, having been released from his hold, and struggled to rush towards the same direction Samantha was taken to. The ebony haired reaper adjusted his glasses and thrust his death scythe at him, extending it, and allowed it to act as a pole that black Ronald from advancing. It looked as though the blond had lost all logic and was pathetically fighting against the tool without the sense to go under or over. "No! You angels are liars! Liars! All of you! Where were you when I begged for God to give me a sign? ! Where were you when I begged for-"

With teeth gritting, William indignantly pulled the trigger and quickly brought the sheers to Ronald's throat. The angel stood from his squatting position in front of Ronald and was face to face with him, veins were popping from Ronald's neck, he ceased his movements and was frozen in place.

"We were busy cleaning up the mess the body you're in created, can you imagine how many women were asking for salvation before giving up their bodies and mutilating themselves? Nothing is ever pure, never mistaken us for those angels, we simply work in place for reapers...considering the damage you done, I can damn you to Hell faster than that man-" He pointed at William. "-can stamp 'complete' his To Die List. I can assure you, all those souls that were violated by Knox were all sent to Heaven."

Ronald's mouth was wide open. William clenched his death scythe even tighter.

"How many have you torn apart, doctor? How many souls have you played the so called 'God' you claim you beg for salvation from? You're just the same as Ronald Knox, a violator and destroyer, when we find your wife, I assure you, we will send her to Heaven-"

"And me?" He pleaded more than asked. He clung to the angel's chest. "Tell me, angel, do I see her in Heaven? I slaved away twenty years-"

"Creating life and throwing away others? Even Hell would spit you out!" The angel brushed Ronald's hands from him. "Your faith will be determined by Ivan once we find him..." He chuckled darkly, William's eyebrows creased. He would wait for either the perfect time to tell the truth or have them discover it themselves. "...but it's never something you would be pleased for." There was a brief pause, Ronald's eyes were wider in shock, his mouth made movements but no words passed his lips. "Ah, you guessed it?"

Ronald began to cry.

"Honestly, you creatures are much worse than demons," William uttered, retracting his death scythe, he walked over to him. The angel looked a bit rough, he had a bit of a stubble forming at his chin and jawline, his eyes were tired but had that fighting spirit. He was much taller than William by a head, he looked very intimidating and yet youthful; his hair was tied back behind his head in a tight ponytail, a few strands were left out to tickle his eyes and cheeks. His attire was ragged, he wore only simple slacks and a shirt and vest, a sword in a holster was fixed on his belt.

The knife carried swished into another holster and he covered himself with his cloak. His wings were jet-black, a few feathers were missing here and there, making him look even more muddled. His speech sounded nothing like an American, William could guess he was sent in from France for whatever instruction was from Sir Kris and Executioner.

With a frown, the angel huffed,"And you reapers are so much more uptight than ghosts. Come now, we should bring the doctor back." And the way he spoke, it held so much authority, William instantly agreed self-consciously. His hand swooped out and grabbed Ronald by the collar. "Go in front of us. Stay in front of us and wait at corners, if you dare go ahead, I will judge you." Ronald took off without a single word, he waited at the other end for them, they too sped off after him.

William glided side by side with the angel. "You sure know how to scare him into obeying you," he started.

He shrugged. "It's his issue, no one likes hearing the truth spat at their faces. My name is Leonardo de Sable, I came here with my apprentice," Leonardo introduced himself politely.

"Leonardo?"

_The name sounded familiar._

"Yes, Leonardo, but call me Leo if it's too much." He smiled and they were around the corner, Ronald ahead by ten feet, checking over his shoulder every second or so. "It's been a while since I came back here, you know, this place used to be beautiful. Now it's simply nothing but an empty shell of the past. How none had ever touched it beats me, but the Vatican reapers did a good job sending souls away."

William remained quiet for the rest of the way, he tried to black out whatever Leonardo spoke of about Wilshires and the rumors surrounding it. He focused on the swift and erratic form of Ronald, who was dashing to and fro to keep a distance from them. It wasn't long before the run ended at the entrance where Ronald was ambushed by two angels.

With a yelp, the blond was subdued and set down into the rubble, the pair pinned him and kept him from fleeing. He was suddenly fighting against them, his body jolted and shook, trying to escape from their iron grips. One of them sent a boot to his face and broke his nose, causing it to bleed profusely. William simply walked by him. A wound like that won't start his Cinematic Records and soul to loose a hold of the body but it was enough to cause him pain.

Leonardo lead William to where Raoul's real body was abandoned, the Cinematic Rips were scattered above him but hovered in place. The mangled body was carelessly laid there, arms and legs were bent unevenly though his chest rose and fell slowly, an indication that there was life within him. William squatted next to him and, with teeth biting his gloves off his hand, he checked his neck for a pulse. It was faint but it existed.

"How can he keep a soul in a body like this?" His hand went over to where the body lacked a limb, Leonardo was at his side. The bright glow of the Rips provided sufficient light, the brightness illuminated the bloodstained clothes and skin, along with the floor pooling with the crimson liquid.

"A witch doctor can perform all sorts of things, using a corpse and reanimating it with a soul is one way to keep it alive. Until a death scythe is run through the body, the soul remains where it was planted. I can imagine that the soul is going through some sort of torment, seeing how badly this body is damaged." He clicked his tongue and instantly got up, he went off towards the group of angels that were standing in the calming drizzle of the rain.

Clouds were breaking up in the sky, William gave a near frown and fallowed the angel. Eric was off to the side, sitting by Grell and keeping him company, William made to head there but was stopped when a lady stretched out her arm and grabbed his shoulder.

She rudely started,"We found you now where is the last one-"

"Now, now, Ana," Leonardo chided her softly,"we were told to rescue, not fight."

"Well, the action's all gone, we should have went with Ivan," she huffed, pushing William away from her. He had his death scythe at the ready as a dare for her to touch him once more.

"He's dead, his soul was eaten by a Cinematic Rip," he coldly stated, the group had mouths open in shock. Leonardo was suddenly the one to grab him by his collar, William quietly stared at him though he read his mind. "The body is at the old oak tree, off the side of the road. I'll say, it's not a pretty sight."

Ana quickly whirled around. She barked,"Three of you, gather Ivan, the rest of you, get ready!" She stomped away towards the direction of where Ronald was held up at. She shoved passed a few and was gone. Leonardo slowly released him and went off to fallow Ana, leaving William with the rest of the group. The angels were murmuring to one another, then they turned from William and went off towards the entrance where the Rips floated by, their hands touched the stone arch but then William looked away from them, his attention now on Eric and Grell.

He traversed over to them, kicking away a limb that was randomly left there, and got his his knees beside Eric. The blond kept to himself, William refrained from speaking to him and looked upon Grell, who had his red coat over his upper body. His heart stopped for a fleeting moment. _Was he dead?_ He reached to touch his hand, which was protruding from underneath, and held his dainty fingers.

"He's not dead, I just covered his face," Eric murmured dryly. He sniffled. William's brows creased. "Don't look at him yet. Trust me."

William took heed of his warning and stayed in place, unmoving. "What happened to him at least?"

"...Undertaker, he literally gorged his eyes out." The larger reaper was stiff in words. He was chewing on his cheek. He suddenly looked at William. "...when this is over with, what will happen?"

"I don't know...the fact that all of this, everything, happened behind our backs. Problems that were dragged in increased in the number of people that were involved, it's an endless chain of how it all happened. Perhaps you are the reason for Alan's condition, along with Grell's, but then again, who can we blame for all of this? It can go as far back as Undertaker's time or it could be as very recent as Ronald's recruitment..."

Eric nodded and looked back at Grell. "Raoul is the reason then-"

"We can't put the blame on anyone, therefore, justice can't be properly carried out...think of this, Eric. Spending most of your life working to gain what was lost, it's worthless, it always is in the end, but how can you call that person being sinful? The worst sin is to create life over the death of others. No one is the reason, everyone has the reason."

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><p>AN: Check out my latest fan fic, An Eternal Sin, it's an Eric/Alan~!

Also, the next chapter is a time skip!

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	47. Fighting Spirit

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji!

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><p>Three months passed, about ninety days or so. Ronald was given a private operation room at the Ward, he spent a majority of his time walking about when he was permitted to leave. Every hour or so he would leave for the Everto to attend matters there, under the watchful eye of Ana, and then return to his room to resume whatever activity he pleasured himself with. And that pleasure were the bodies of Samantha Starveling and Grell Sutcliff, and then Alan Humphries and Raoul Sylvestre's original corpse; all four were taken to him in order for him to work with.<p>

It was a complicated bargain Ronald struck with everyone when he was taken into custody.

For his services of returning every Division (excluding the Baton Rouge and New New York Divisions) he damaged back to full health regarding reapers, he would be allowed to take possession of the four bodies to perform personal operations and be spared from having his soul reaped.

The deal was upheld to its fullest, Ronald never wavered at his end and managed to repair whoever he could piece together.

Sooner than most expected, London Division began to house foreign reapers that were in need of assistance. Kris had busied himself releasing reapers to their respective countries while Evans did his best to record all that he could. While not many had returned, having been that ever since the original Council destroyed whatever was left of the mirrored Wilshire Mansion in the Everto, a good number of Switched reapers were able-bodied to return home.

And when he claimed his work was done, he remained confined in that surgical room. He never left, he never went off to the Everto whenever Ana came by to escort him. Ronald stayed where he was behind that door doing whatever sick experiment he was doing to the poor souls inside.

Much to William and Eric's protests during the conviction of Ronald, it was odd as to why Undertaker entrusted Grell and Alan's care into Ronald's hands. Many doubted Undertaker's rationality but the sincerity that Ronald placed out for the public was too much to bear and, without any other choice, he was permitted to keep the bodies. However, as compensation, Eric and William were able to guard Ronald personally like dogs, keeping diligent in watching his movements.

The two men took shifts, conspiring ways of how to break into that operation room. But during the trial, when the deal was struck, no entry, save for Ana, was to be made into that room unless he or she were Ronald.

"Ah...you're created, not born, into a god, aren't you?" Ronald asked between the bars of the window that was built into the door. It allowed him to converse with whoever was watching him. The man that stood outside was Eric Slingby, night shifts was what he took up.

"Don't you have a body to fix up?" Eric grunted. "The sooner you fix Grell and Alan, the faster we'll let you free to do whatever shit you want-"

"Lies, all you are lying...angels, demons, and even gods, you all lie," the younger reaper swooned teasingly,"all sinners, no matter how much divine you say you are, reaper..."

"I'm already riddled with sin, don't push it any further. I have enough time dealing with the devil-"

Ronald violently slammed his hands to the bars, rattling the entire doors and making Eric crack one eye to the side from where he was at on the page. The blond was sitting upon a chair, reading a book calmly. "I am anything but the devil! Fool!" He kicked at the door. "You...you don't know what it feels like to loose loved ones. William knows it, the Undertaker knows it, and I damn well know I myself!Do you know how it feels to have a loved one there in body but not in soul? You loose them, you work for them to come back, and they do as a different person!"

He broke into a manical laughter, his hysteria filled the dark hallway.

"I can...I can end it all for you! That boy I'm caring for, I can rip his soul out in five seconds and crush it! Then you'll know true madness-"

Ever since that trying ordeal everyone faced at Wilshires, the emotional and mental strain had taken a toll on them.

William had receded to become distant, often dwelling on the past and never keeping himself focused as much as he used to. He seemed less sharper and more lax about things, even his work began to slip from his fingers. Undertaker had thought it best to save him the torment from the Cinematic Rips in order to keep him in such a near vegetative state though the old reaper had decided to abandon shaping the blank man into a functional person.

Often times William would be seen prowling the Library's halls, sulking while trying to uphold his position. He was becoming seldom in working at his office, preferring to work where others normally stayed. Perhaps it was the company he needed, many took caution towards him though, fearing that he would snap at any given moment and yet he never did.

It was as if he were a widower. Quietly and discreetly mourning.

Undertaker was no more than insane. He had erratic tendencies and yet tried to keep it hidden. He began to wear his old uniform, much to everyone's surprise, and had taken London Division into his own hands once more. Balancing the reapers, repairs, Ronald/Raoul, and the angels had forced him to take up an authoritative demeanor. Many meetings passed, collaborations were made, he seemed to favor being with angels rather than his own kind.

For whatever reason, no one knows why, it may probably be for the best. None dared to question Undertaker though many doubted he was, at any level, able to maintain his sanity. Eric never learned how they kept Alan alive but by the way Undertaker had been acting, he was trying to cover up whatever happened that day in the Infirmary. Though rumors spread that Wilde and his nurses had suddenly disappeared, they were gone without a trace when Ronald arrived to tend to Alan.

Finally there was Eric. The man was as calm once but now he snaps at anyone, anything. He began to have urges of wanting to break every neck he sees. The lacking of Alan, the lacking of someone to protect and failing to protect, had sunk in to Eric. Just the other day, Evans had decided to temporarily suspend William's team. They had all become madmen or disabled in some way.

With Ronald taunting him constantly by dangling Alan's life in front of Eric, it became a game to the doctor, one in which he tried to get the lion angry and then step back to watch him paw at the bars. But then again, Ronald was the animal trapped in a box. Oh, the cruel irony in that.

Eric kicked his chair aside, he dropped his book, and began to pound on the door himself, shouting wildly,"ARE YOU GOING TO HEAL ALAN OR NOT? !"

"How would you know? !" Ronald laughed at him. "I could have done him in completely earlier-"

And the blond went against part of the contract.

Now the deal was that Ronald would be allowed to keep the room in private, only the angel Ana would be allowed to enter, no one else. If anyone other than him and Ana were to enter, Ronald would be set free of his burden (which he had finished up by that point) and instantly be set free. The circumstances in which they were set raised suspicion though it was the only way he could comply in repairing everything. Eric wretched open the door and charged in with his death scythe at hand.

"GO FUCK OFF!" Eric roared, and then Ronald slipped passed him, barely avoiding him and the next thing Eric knew, Ronald was gone.

Eric was left in the surgical room. He found the bodies were they were. He only went in once, and that was the first day when Grell was wheeled in, shortly after Alan came as well. Eric had only seen glimpses of Alan, it drove him mad from not being able to see him.

It was a large room, four operation tables were situated near each corner with its own lights and cabinets with tools by their sides. Eric couldn't bother to go after Ronald any more, he rushed over to the nearest table where a white blanket covered the poor soul's face. His shaking, anticipating, hand pulled the cover off, revealing the bare body of Grell. The red reaper snapped open his eyes and instantly lashed out at Eric, his hand grabbing a knife from a tray nearby his head and then utilizing it as his weapon.

Eric was quicker though, he instantly backed away and allowed Grell to peruse him. Grell's eyes were wide open, though markings of where stitches were embedded to the corners of his eyes. The first thing Eric couldn't tear his ow eyes from were Grell's.

They had reverted to their former vibrant colors, bright green irises and then light emerald rings around said irises could only promise that Ronald kept to his deal through and through. It was brief when they locked eyes but then reality clicked to them when Grell stumbled over the edge of the operation table, landing face first to the floor and then having his other hand tied to the edge threw him off balance. Eric insnatly placed his scythe to the ground and approached Grell slowly.

The redhead had sort of a ferocity to him, but it could have been that passionate fire that had suddenly sparked to give him that foreboding feeling. But seeing Grell tied and in the nude made him look less threatening. Eric took off his blazer and squatted right in front of the redhead once he managed to untangle himself and sit up correctly.

"Grell," Eric murmured, the redhead snapped his head and his eyes flickered at Eric as if he were the real threat instead. Grell pulled his legs up to his chest to hold himself, the knife in his hand was poorly pointed at Eric, warning him to not come any closer.

"No...not...I'm not letting you touch me again, you bastard," Grell managed to breathe out, he was trembling in his spot. But Eric continued to inch nearer. "No!" Grell was ready to strike but stopped when he suddenly recognized the reaper in front of him. "...Eric? My God, I can't see who you are...it's the blond-"

Eric nodded it off when he learned he was permitted to come closer to Grell. He dropped the jacket to his lap and stood up to work on the leather strap that bound Grell's wrist. After a few minutes of undoing the ties and latches, as if Ronald couldn't get any more paranoid, Grell's wrist was free. Eric squatted to be at Grell's eye level and touched his cheek.

"You're alright? Right?"

That wasn't the best to ask.

"My eyes, I can't see well, but I'm alive if that's what you mean," Grell uttered, he threw his arms around Eric's neck and pulled him to his knees to hold him,"I thought I'd never get out...Ronald, he's insane...why? Why is he doing this?"

Eric held him back as well. "It's not Ronald."

He pulled away and took his blazer once more to wrap around Grell's bare shoulders, Grell stayed in place, unmoving though he buttoned up the blazer for warmth. He had no strength t stand though he was attempting to move them to awaken the dormant muscles. Eric went off to the side were another closet was nailed to the wall, he opened it, expecting to see bodies, but instead found that the respect clothes of the occupants on the tables were hung neatly and miraculously repaired and cleaned. Eric took a handful of Grell's clothes, which were neatly hung on a single hanger, and tossed it to him.

"There," Eric huffed, Grell nodded and reached for his favored coat as Eric briskly made his way to where another body was laying. He held his breath and lifted the covers to find Alan, who slowly stirred from sleep with a low groan. "Alan..." Eric nearly fell to his knees when Alan opened his eyes just the tiniest.

Unlike Grell, Alan remained still. Eric pulled the covers more down to his torso to see numerous stitches lining his pale stomach. Eric released his breath and when he looked back at Alan's face, who traded his calm, lazy gaze to being utterly terrified, the first thing the brunette said was,"Get the fuck away from me."

"No, I'm not Ronald," Eric tried to reassure him. Eric could only guess that they were administrated heavy doses of Scarlet in order to fight the painful procedures of whatever, could Ronald have been cruel enough? Was this what he meant by loosing everything and yet having it all at the same time?

Alan glared at him, testing him to touch him once more in order for the worse to happen.

It already had.

"Alan-" Alan managed to sit up on his own, wincing at the pain he felt, and was ready to jump off and run if he needed to. The look he gave Eric, there was no recognition in his eyes, they flickered from being warm to cold, constantly changing like a certain undertaker would tend to do. He reached a hand to touch him but Alan slapped that hand away. And it hurt in more ways than one.

"Hey...Samantha's bed's empty," Grell pointed out distantly.

-...-

Ronald whirled around the last corner, if memory served him right, it would have been the last home stretch to freedom from his prison. A smile was plastered to his face, he was ready to be free once more with his life's creation in his arms. It lacked eyes but sight was just an unneeded for love.

Curled up in his arms, wrapped in a blanket, was Samantha, her corpse was intertwined with the parts of reapers whose souls had been eaten away. The agreement to restore every reaper was made save for the ones that he intentionally destroyed for good measure. Without a reaper to perform the necessary operation, there was no need to undo his work to Samantha's body. He smirked at his work, he was a damn smart one.

He played his cards right tonight. He knew Eric would go berserk at the sound of Alan's name, he knew Eric would step into the room and break the contract unintentionally due to his impulses, he knew that. He had gone through it in life, but now he had grown rise to outsmart anyone.

Raoul Sylvestre.

The man who brought four Divisions down and nearly brought a fifth one.

But he was a coward for Death. He feared the reapers, they stole away what was precious to him. He swore he would bring Hell to them when he can, and he did. He changed their eternal lives but he grew a new fear. What if his work was forgotten by them? Pain tends to heal as time passes. Ronald shook his head.

_No, I'm supposed have one goal._

One goal, to revive the woman he spent so many years mourning for. He loved her so much.

Ronald's mind was bouncing, spinning, going through the memories that went on and on, and then it all froze to _her_ face.

"Nicole," he breathed out as he threw his back at the double doors that served as an entrance to the Ward. The burst open and the fresh air filled his lungs. Night had fallen upon the Reaper Realm and it was peaceful, quiet, almost calm, like the eye of a hurricane when he first experienced it back in New Orleans. He looked down at Samantha, then he dropped her. The face in his mind failed to match the ace on the body he held. Or was it that his eyes were becoming obscured from tears?

A voice rang out in front of him, the last thing he saw was the tip of a sword flying at him from the darkness, he fallowed its movement into his chest, piercing him through the heart. Ronald let out a sob, he laughed right there and dropped the limp corpse to the ground.

He was at lost. The plan was, from the very beginning, to create a body to be immortal and he had forgotten one major detail, one in which the face, the most important part, was to be similar to _hers_. But Ronald had seen so many faces, _hers_ was beginning to slip away. It had went away long ago but it came back from some reason. Now he remembered it.

_So this is...where I end?_

Ronald spluttered when blood surfaced through his throat to choke him. He coughed the liquid out as the sword was pulled out from his body. His entire word went dark, he felt himself being ripped away, as if he were cast into a new life in which he was never allowed to rest. The life left the body he possessed, he was willing to let go now. His spiritual eyes closed as an acceptance until he heard a hiss snake to him from afar,"Our kind never find rest."

He knew that voice. Ivan. But how did he-

The Cinematic Rips that he controlled temporarily at the fight under than bloodstained oak were released to do as they wished. And the first thing it decided to do was devour the tormented soul of Raoul Sylvestre.

No, he'll stay strong. He'll fight it. This isn't the kind of fate he'll accept.

_I want to live._

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><p>AN: Here you go, sorry for the laziness lately~

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	48. Injustice

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji

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><p>William was roused from bed. He had decided to bed early that night. There was a restless feeling running through his mind when he shot up from his pillow, covers flying off his body. Sure he had suffered a nightmare but waves of dread crested over throughout his whole, he had this feeling before. Uncertainty and anxiety, the unknowing of something happening.<p>

"Grell," he breathed.

He threw on his dress shirt, he cared less about buttoning it all the way, and a pair of slacks to pull on. He stumbled forth, grabbing his death scythe, and rushed out of his apartment. Within seconds he found himself running down the street outside his building. What was the rush? He couldn't place his tongue on it; the man was running barefoot on the pavement. He breathed in the cold air.

November, it had rained earlier that night. The chilly wetness of the street nipped at his feet until he couldn't feel them. William gritted his teeth and clenched his death scythe and took off once more to where the dread radiated the most. He didn't care. He had his head low for weeks on end, it was now that he was pushed to the edge. Breaking points varied from person to person. William had enough of the taunting silence that came with the day when he guarded the door to Ronald's room.

Unlike Eric, William never received word from the blond, for Ana only took him during the day time and never at night.

Those angels.

_She knows._

She knows what went on in there. William watched her tentatively. Her arrogant expressions, her prideful esteem, and that uncontrollable smirk that he would be more than glad to shear off her face. Now it was high time she spoke. She never said anything, nothing about what happens in there was said aloud.

The Divisions are put back to their places, why doesn't she speak about what happened?

He ran on into the night, the pursuit of destroying the very thing that caused his uncertainty has to end tonight.

-...-

The moon hung overhead. Smoke from a long pipe rose to the sky, Undertaker let out more of the pepper tasting smoke that clouded his throat. He let out a sly grin, he turned around to be face to face with Ana. "So you gave Samantha's Cinematic Rip to Ronald to consume Raoul's soul?" Undertaker clucked his tongue. "You should have brought him here..."

She wore only a nightdress, her hands were clutching the edges of her sleeves, it was as though she were regretting something; he studied her. That time in the Hall, the first time in a century or so, Undertaker took his position to address the circumstances of how to handle Raoul and clean up the mess he created so marvelously. He was rather open to the angels, the death of their apparent leader Ivan would have shaken the to them to the core, he felt slightly sympathetic towards them.

No, he shouldn't be.

"Why, reaper?"

But this particular one, out of all that roamed the London Division, was suspicious. His grin faded away. He frowned. He's been doing that lately.

"I wanted to deal with him myself-"

The doors to Undertker's office flew open, Ana nearly fell off the balcony but wavered a bit until she regained her proper balance. She clutched the banister as Undertaker simply turned his head to the side. He grinned and leaned more against the railing to rest his head casually. "Company we got? At this time?" He snickered indiscreetly and tossed his pipe off the edge. The last of the opium was exhaled and he grinned lopsidedly.

He recognized the somewhat prestige air. The sound of boots pounding against the marble flooring was familiar, each step radiated with arrogance, Undertaker's blood grew cold. He clenched his teeth but curled his lips. A tongue snaked out to moisten them as the intruder, Signore Marcello of the Vatican Division, spoke out,"Sir Undertaker, it matters not the time when justice should be paid..."

"Hnm?" Undertaker raised an eyebrow.

"We, of the Vatican Division, would have allowed you to go free with the death of our men during that bloody mishap at Wilshires." The man was dressed the same way as he were back at the English countryside; the only variant was that his clothes were cleaner and much more finer than before. He was at Undertaker's side within a blink of an eye, a scroll was at hand, it was given to the mortician, who grimaced and hesitated to take the parcel.

Undertaker undid the red bow and unrolled it to read it in the firelight that surrounded him by torches. His lips moved and he murmured words that were written upon the document. Marcello's mask was the first thing Undertaker saw when he completely looked at him after reading the paper. "This...you mean to say that we, the London Division, had caused this entire fiasco with the Paris, Berlin, and those other Divisions? My, Marcello, our humble Library was about to collapse if we never caught the culprit." Undertaker gave a slight frown.

"The fact that you collaborated with angels, the other Divisions grew suspicious of you...and besides, where is the said culprit? The single man responsible for the destruction of four European Divisions? Hm?"

The silver reaper's jaw dropped, he whirled his head to face Ana, who was smiling broadly. Undertaker was speechless._ So she was collaborating with that bastard...just to get rid of me? What had we done to her?_

"Your reaction says otherwise," Marcello dryly informed him,"I've known you for quite a while, Undertaker, I was the one who raised you from the dead. Again, my dear old friend, you seemed to have the aptitude for experimenting in your younger days...who was that reaper you spent so much time with? Walter? Wilson? Ah! William! The murderous baron William T. Spears, also nicknamed as the Demon Hunter. Yes, I remember you ordered so much Scarlet from the Beijing Division at one point, it had to be processed properly at the Vatican in order to distribute it in smaller pieces for you."

"That business is none of yours to go through, you fool-"

"Am I the fool? I'm not the one making deals with demons. Legend goes that if you say the real name of a sorcerer, they loose their powers. Undertaker, you're no sorcerer, are you? You're only a reaper...but what do I care...Undertaker, that document is useless to you now since you failed to reveal the identity of the man who collapsed the four European Divisions-"

Undertaker summoned his death scythe, he swung it at the angel who was perched nearby but she had dove back and had disappeared into the dark. "No! Don't say it! You'll regret it more than I! Marcello, I beg of you-"

"Under the orders of the Head of the Ministry of Hades, I, Signore Marcello, representative and messenger of the Ministry of Hades and Head of the Council of the Vatican Division, hereby declare the demolition of the entire London Division and their Council for reasons of treason and injustice to humans and reapers; and also the illegal distribution of the drug known as Scarlet. Now...Gabriel Bartholomew Humphries, you are relieved of your position as Head of the Elder Council of the London Division."

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	49. Where It All Began

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji

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><p>The night began to rain once more, just as it done earlier in the twilight, by the time Eric had lead the two reapers outside. Grell had stumbled slightly when he struggled to open the double doors, it was pouring. If Grell were to remember it correctly, the last time there was a shower it was the time that Undertaker had gorged his eyes out. He wanted to forget that memory.<p>

In his time of confinement, every so often (ever since his eyes had healed properly) he would rouse from sleep to see blurs of Ronald on the other side with a faint glow of light. There was always that little shine that made Grell rise slightly from his place. But every time Ronald noticed him, the dosage of anesthetics would increase to send Grell off into that dark world that held no comfort. Grell could only guess that Alan was alive and breathing today because Ronald did something to him.

Glows of light meant Cinematic Records.

Therefore, could it be, that Ronald had tampered with Alan's memories? If so, did he induce him with the Scarlet drug? A massive overdose perhaps?

Grell stared at Alan, worried. Eric was a man to dance around words whenever Alan had came up in a conversation.

Grell sensed Eric had changed over the course of time he was confined to the surgical room; there was something about that man that made him seem uneasy. Anger. That was the emotion from Eric, the kind that he radiated so erratically. Even with the rain, the coldness of it, Grell could feel that burning passion; it was the passion of hatred.

Alan had walked in between them. He too had changed. He was...more distant towards poor Eric, who was the faithful out of them all. His feelings were discreet, Grell failed to tell the difference from the two of them but he shook it off. The rain poured harder, thunder rolled in and it was becoming thick and hazy, Eric was ahead of the two, keeping true to his name as a second leader to William's personal team. Grell bit his lip until it bled, he attempted to keep his balance; there was something else amiss in this washed up world that was home to the Reapers.

His signature red coat soaked up the water, as did his hair, when they suddenly paused at the front of the madhouse; the sight of a familiar face and body laying limp in front of them was unsightly, disturbing, and just utterly unnatural. It was Ronald Knox, at least his body, laying before them, drowning in the puddle; Eric immediately fell to his knees and flipped him over. The body began to jolt and twitch violently and then his mouth opened, screaming and yelling.

Grell could only see his distorted form, it was simply a blur and his dark attire was something that he failed to distinguish between the ground and him. The redhead could only watch, he heard Eric shouting back at him, and then the sound of the blond beleaguering him violently, hitting him and throwing himself to the ground. Grell threw a quick glance at Alan, who was quietly standing there, as if uncaring for what was happening.

Now that was a big pointer. Alan seemed to brush it off, "it" meaning Eric's hysteria.

"Aren't you going to stop him! ?" Grell exclaimed; the two were standing there, watching him wrestle Ronald seemed to be like watching him punish him.

"Which him?" He asked back coldly, if Grell could see he would guess that he was glaring.

The struggled shouts and the choking grunts exchanged from the two came to a sudden stop when Ronald managed to bring his voice out,"It's me, damn it, Eric! Me! Ronald fucking Knox! Get the fuck off me!" There was a pained groan, Eric's large form suddenly slouched to the side and then stumbled away, landing shoulder first to the ground. Lightning struck and all that the three could see was a flash of blood on white, Grell fell to his knees as Ronald managed to bring himself to a sitting position.

"How can I trust you're Ronald Knox?"

Thunder rolled in closer, the blond could only shake his head. "No time for this!" He lunged up and managed to tackle both Grell and Alan, taking them both to the ground next to Eric; Grell and Alan began to fight him until the roar of thunder and the thickness of the water obscured their senses to a point of where the difference among the ground and the sky was torn apart, Grell felt as though he were being tossed about in an ocean, the only feeling he had was Ronald's arm slung across his neck.

Grell was suddenly too weak to fight back, he simply went along with whatever was happening; he learned fighting will end with consequences of one were to lose. Grell was smart enough to know that. But at the moment, he was too caught up in a churning space in which he was unable to focus in which direction was up or down. He felt as though his sense were all screwed up until the swirling stopped, he was slammed strait into a wooden ground, his nose cracked and he squirmed and groaned in pain and dizziness.

It was deathly quiet, wherever he was, save for the other moans and disgruntled shifts of weight upon wood, and he had the urge to vomit, and he done so; his body shuddered and jolted as his stomach emptied whatever it had, mostly bile and acids. His throat burned and he was left limp on the ground, his nails dug into the wood, grating it in a sorry attempt to stop the spinning world that revolved in endless circles in his eyes.

"Oh god," he managed to splutter out, his stomach lurched and he felt acid shoot through his throat and out of his mouth. He trembled. Why had everything stopped?

"I'll kill you Raoul!" He heard Eric roar in the background, Grell was too spent to even lift his head or care for his now broken nose. His eyes just shut closed and he inhaled the scent of the wood. If it didn't stench of his own body fluid, he would have enjoyed smelling it but he just couldn't. He cared less to tell if Ronald was the Ronald Knox he knew, he gave up and closed his eyes, he reached his hand inside his coat pocket and felt a pill dispenser. He popped the cap in his pocket, the noise from the two reapers fighting behind him masked it, and he managed to extract two precious pills of the Scarlet.

He quickly brought the two pills to his mouth and he swallowed it in an instant. His head rolled to the side to rest against his dead arm, he had never felt so exhausted this horribly before in his life but he managed to have enough strength to pull his nose back into place, he yelled out but the pain ebbed into nothingness.

-...-

Half an hour passed along, there were still shouting and Grell had finally calmed, both mind and body. It was then, when he heard a bone crack and a shriek, he opened his eyes to find himself in the strangest of places. He lifted his head up slowly, he could still smell the bile just a few ways from his nose. He tried to breathe and took in another scent, one of dusted dry wall and cement, he slowly brought himself into sitting up and discovered an unpleasant sight.

"S-stop! I'm Ronald, can't you just stop! ?" He heard Ronald beg, Grell looked back around to see Ronald squirming on the ground like a worm; the younger reaper had an arm twisted back with Eric straddling his chest and punching his jaw without end, Grell looked away from the fray and glanced over to see Alan on the ground, laying and sleeping. Grell managed to bring himself up, the weight of the water in his red coat and hair weighed him down significantly.

His hands suddenly touched the puddle of vomit, he grimaced and tried to wipe away the liquids on a random cloth he found nearby. He began to observe the room that they were in; it was familiar but he had a clear memory of where they were.

It was the rundown house he and Ronald were assaulted by Cinematic Rips, only to be saved by Undertaker. The building looked like it was at the verge of collapsing, the roof above thir heads creaked and swayed, indicating its instability.

Grell cautiously walked over to the two, the sound of his heels on the wood made them stop and look up. Ronald had the eyes of a scared child and Eric one those of an abusive parent but they both had undivided attention towards the redhead. He felt empty somewhat, just a tinge of loss, something that seemed to be a piece of him. He knew the Scarlet would blank one's memory temporarily but Grell sensed something was cold, not from his coat but from his very soul.

"Boys, stop fighting," he told them quietly, Eric merely snorted.

Ronald began whimpering,"They were planning it, y'know...them, they were planning it..."

"Planning what?"

"Raoul had planned it in the beginning if everything falls apart, it wasn't through the Reapers to collapse the London Division...he wanted it to end with treachery. And then they got Executioner..."

Eric still held fast, spitting,"Liar."

"A-am not! Executioner will devour all the souls of everyone! That's his power!" He shouted, he inhaled sharply, he was fighting the pain. "The demon will ruin everyone!"

It fell silent and the two men were awestruck at the horrid truth, or lie, that Ronald was spilling in front of them. Eric wanted to bring a fist up to hit him once more but Grell grabbed his wrist, the red reaper spoke to Ronald,"Can we go back there?"

He shook his head.

"They wanted it to be unusable for everyone...we can't go back...that son of a bitch still got what he wanted. We're out of a job for a while..."

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><p>AN: His Scarlet Effect ends here. I may, or may not, post another sequel. I feel uninspired to keep writing so, well, I'll try but not any promises.

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	50. The Cruelty of Him

Disclaimer: I don't own Kuroshitsuji

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><p>If Grell were a believer in the Christian faith, he would have turned his hair brunette and lock himself up at the nearest covenant to hide away from the world. But no, the poor redhead was huddled atop the nearest pile of rubbish. Shivering and shuffling about, Grell sniffled as he listened to Eric's fist come into impact with Ronald's face. An hour of pleading him, weakly and forcefully and possibly by any attempt, Grell found himself powerless against the postal blond and was mindful to keep a safe distance.<p>

Waterlogged and utterly miserable, he felt that it was impossible to dry himself off. He was cold to the bone and wished for someone to hold him and keep him warm.

William.

A forth of the year and he never saw the reaper in a while. He wondered if that person retained feelings towards him. Certainly, in his dreams, William and him were resting upon the banks of the river, chattering away or having a passionate moment that would suddenly blotch itself out as though his subconscious part was rejecting him.

Grell's fist trembled as it wrung out his coat for the umpteenth time; it had retained so much water, he thought it magically stored the liquid in gallons rather than pints. He sighed to himself, exhausted and weak, and finally had the courage to speak out,"Hitting that boy won't do any good, it certainly isn't getting us anywhere."

The pounding stopped, a pool of blood and water, mixing with the dust and debris of the demolished building, had surrounded Ronald. Eric's knees and shins were soaked in it as well, forever staining his slacks, when he nodded, half agreeing and half raging on, contemplating whether to fallow Grell's advice or to continue his savage act. Eric looked thoughtful for a moment, Grell relaxed but grew tense once more when he watched Eric's hand carry the handle of his saw.

"Killing will do better!" Eric shouted at Ronald, who was unconscious on the floor. Grell sprung to his feet, like a bullfighter he covered the belligerent Eric's head with his coat. In the midst of the confusion, Eric began tossing his large form about until Grell grasped the saw's handle and yanked it away, he chucked it towards a torn up sofa and backed away from Eric. The blond managed to ruffle his way out of the redness and was instantaneously fuming, but Grell retorted, quick with words that were desperate to make him see the entire picture.

"Enough of that! Lucky enough to have him alive than Raoul, much less even have Alan as well! Look at us, if that were Raoul he would have left us to die in whatever Hell came up in our Realm!" Eric was still straddling Ronald, intent on punishing him further but then his eyes closed and he inhaled deeply. Grell found it as a reason to continue. "He could have sent us to the Everto or leave us, no, he saved us! And for what? For us to murder him? You revived him into being a reaper, wouldn't this be a sort of payment for you?"

Eric's eyes suddenly opened, his looked strait at Grell. Mixture of surprise and anger danced about in his eyes. "Where did you learn that?"

It came more as a snarl than a gasp but Grell brushed it off his shoulder.

"Samantha's Cinematic Rip merged with my soul and...I saw what she lived through, Ronald was going to kill her when he caught her with Raoul. Enough of her, just stop it! I can't think when you're busy trying to crack his skull open!" He briskly walked away, he stepped by Alan, who was left in a heap on the ground, lightly snoring, and made his way out of the wrecked room then around a corner. His bare feet padded against the dusty floor, he paused a moment, praying that Eric would cease his beleaguer upon Ronald.

A minute passed and there was no sound of pounding against the wood nor choking.

Grell placed a finger to his temple to push away another oncoming headache and he walked down the hallway, making on a right at a pile of rubble that blocked his path. He turned a corner and found himself at what seemed to be the front door. The misery seemed to have lightened upon his shoulders when he saw that there was a way out of the dump. It was blurry but he had a sense that he was going in the correct direction. He gingerly made his way, the blobs of debris were quite cumbersome but he eventually got to the door.

His cold, shaking hand reached a rusted door nob and turned it, the grinds of the rust and metal screeched in his ears as he pushed the door forth. It hesitated but eventually opened up to the world. Grell stepped out to observe whatever his poor eyes could see.

Grell could guess that they were in the slums of London. Perhaps the East part if he remembered it correctly. His brain was slightly fuzzy and it was hard to map out where he was.

"Shit," he murmured to himself, he cursed because his glasses were missing, and he definitely knew his coat would lack a spare.

The only sights he saw were the silhouettes of the apartments and buildings, along with a few blobs of rats that were rummaging through the nearest trash. His scent was terrorized by the stench of the humans and some godforsaken smell that seemed to emit from somewhere horrid. And, finally, the taste of the sewers lingered in the air, biting his tongue when he licked his lips. He was somewhat grateful that he lacked spectacles to see anything in this part of the city.

His thoughts were assaulted by the sound of an infant wailing in the distance. Grell bit his tongue gently enough to draw blood but not give him a lisp as he turned back, closing the door behind him.

After a while of feeling his way back to the room in which the three had silently decided to rest themselves, Eric himself laid off of Ronald and was doing nothing to stop the blooding from what appeared to be the boy's nose and mouth.

_Oh, the cruelty of him._ Grell dropped to his knees and reached for the coat that was draped over Ronald's legs. He took out the Scarlet and took out three pills, then he popped it into Ronald's bloodied mouth. His hand closed his jaw and rubbed his throat to help the pills go down.

"We need to find a safe place to hold up at."

Those were the first sensible words Eric had said, Grell finished giving Ronald the drug and glanced over his shoulder at Eric. "Why so?"

"Because...if that angel Ana seen your Cinematic Records, she would know where you would hide for the most part. How often do you go to that demon butler?"

"Who? Sebastian?" Grell's heart twinged at the name. "It's been a long time..."

"Then we go there-"

"But...I was there during Jack the Ripper, surely she would go-"

"Half angels never go after demons, Grell, they're part human and would rather not have themselves susceptible for meals. And since we don't have a job, so it seems, we can hang there for a while. I don't really care about demons if they don't in the way of work. But look at us, we're out of a gig. No issue there, right?"

Grell brought himself fully around, he stared at Eric, opening his mouth was a premonition to his need to speak but he refrained himself from doing so. He nodded. "Fine, I'll take you there. Get your death scythe and wake up Alan, I'll take care of Ronald."

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><p>AN: So I've decided to forget creating a sequel. I'll continue this fic right now, ha ha...

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	51. A First Contract

Disclaimer: I don't own Kuroshitsuji

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><p>Back in the old days, when the first humans began to grow dense in populations around the world, the need for the creation of more reapers came to be. At first there were ten or so per country, gathering whatever souls found and, whatever was left out, demons were allowed to take possession of. One can say they, those creatures, were needed by reapers just as much as air was for humans. On good favorable terms, the two worked side by side, steadily keeping the humans in check.<p>

At one point they even intermingled. The mortality of demons disappeared at the blood of reapers and the powers needed for transportation became an asset to reapers, powers of manipulations were exchanged as well though none had come into consideration for it. They coincided harmoniously until humans, ones who never turned reaper, themselves were added into the equations. Over time, aggression began to show in both bloodlines, the greed for souls became unsustainable on the demons' part while the pride of reapers grew with their hallowed obligations to preserve humanity became their top priority.

Executioner wsa a special kind of demon. A very special kind.

He was the result from the old days becoming young. He came into being through the mixture of a human and a demon conceiving, but before his powers were realized he was murdered during a crossfire between the two forces. A reaper, a young one of the Division that came before the Vatican's, approached him and, out of the need for new forces for reapers, revived him. It was a desperate struggle and neither side knew the catastrophe the transformation would bring.

The name Executioner replaced the one that he formally used. Names, back in those days, were given to those who would live up to it; and Executioner lived up to it much more than Undertaker would do so. He massacred everyone, everyone he could get his hands upon on all sides. Souls of reapers were his meals and the bodies of demons were his drinks. He was feared by all and yet he feared all.

When his power became great, he created the Everto, a place in which demons with mixed blood may live in to find peace. He was once described a generous one for those he saved but, for some odd reason, he revolted upon reapers, preventing them from entering his domain. It was odd, considering how he became a reaper as well, but perhaps it was out of anger of turning into one that he was unable to die and be sent off into an afterlife.

He ruled the Everto and amazingly never had true control; it was made for his fellows and not himself. He traversed between the Realms, a symbol to all who had mingled with the other, he was a reminder of the drastic results of breeding between demons, humans, and reapers. Thus, to prevent more of his kind being created, the courtship between all three ceased and worlds were divided to separate them all.

There was the Human Realm where humans lived prosperously and peacefully with the stress of death being their main drive for life. They grew and grew and had lost consciousness of the other races that hid among them. While they mocked animals in their world, little did the know that they were the true animals for the others that were covert in the backgrounds.

Next was the Reaper Realm, a realm in which reapers resided. A human would come once in a while, only to be marveled at the sight and soon dub it as sort of Heaven. Years later, a text that was very important to a religious group of humans came into being and wars erupted amongst those who fought for which was the truth. Reapers were unappreciative for the amount of souls collected in the fallowing times but it gave them a purpose for their existence.

Finally came the Demon Realm. The name of it came much more later than that of the Reapers' world, it came long before another incident in which a man stumbled upon this world with an uncollected soul as a companion and traversed through the many levels of it*. Demons lived quite happily, even creating the homes that suited their tastes in their attributes; there was no issue at all but the sight of it for the man was too much to handle; he concocted a book later on to show humans what would happen of they were to sin.

All of them laughed at the humans for their credulity, each of them used the fear of them to sway them into their hands, whether for collection of consuming.

And while the demons and reapers fought for humans, it was the Executioner that fought for all of them, to ingest them for his nourishment. He was the true Devil, if Lucifer had never fallen from Heaven, he would have been known the the real Devil that walked with the men, terrorizing them and targeting all for his amusement. But time passed and he began to lose popularity among the three races. Yes, he was well known as an example but was quickly dismissed by many and soon, by the time the Christan wars for reclaiming land believed to be Holy for them, he was forgotten.

Eyes were drawn upon the angels that had Fallen from the real Heaven, Executioner was simply pushed to the side.

He foraged for souls here and there, catching those unsuspecting of his presence until, one day, the reaper that had lived for a time longer and even created him, came to him and said,"You have no purpose, do you?"

The conversation was quick, after all, they were in the middle of a battle field, one similar to the one Executioner was revived upon. Executioner, dressed in only robes, he looked more like a hermit that had descended from the mountains; he was covered head to toe in a black robe though a hood, rather than a potato sack, covered his head. He was in the form of a human this time, it prevented any attention to be drawn to him. He snarled truculently.

"I have one, at least, I did. Time passed so much since then, you think I would remember why I was created?" He eyed the reaper, dressed in whit robes, sit upon a pile of bodies, his mask adorned with blood rather than silver.

"You were made for the collection of souls and yet you consume them. You have the heart of a man and hold compassion for demons and your kind. You are the very opposite of what I made you for. You think that you can thrive off they way you are now? Feasting upon the battlefield, sleeping the the field of blood, you look rather pathetic."

And the pride of reaper was triggered within Executioner, he perked up and dropped the soldier that he was reaping with his bare hand. "Pathetic? Me? Ha! I have formulated a plan a while ago, a long while, and I was simply deciding which human to test it on!" Executioner smiled and went to sit next to him. "But all the humans dying on this field are of no use to me, if I were to act as their servant, their only request for their wishes would to ether go back to their families or to have their side win the war. Both of these things are easy to accomplish, why would I want to do so? There is no fun in such a thing..."

The reaper leaned against the corpse to rest his head upon the headless one. "What would be the price of your servitude?"

"Their souls. I call it a Contract. With my blood, I can form it with any of you, reapers, demons, and especially humans. I can do anything. But...to be sure, I'd rather perform it upon a human, they seem less dangerous."

He nodded his head, the mask's beak simply waved in the air, and the reaper sighed,"There is a scheduled massacre in Northern England, one in Wilshires...there are men who while avenge and later be brought here but it's best to catch them when their in their raw form of the mind. One that has denoted their God and lost sight of Him, those are the kind you will find entertaining."

Executioner smiled. "You are fairly different from reapers, let us travel to this Wilshires, old friend, my dear Marcello."

-...-

And so, the unfortunate soul that Executioner had been called for, was that of a shepherd named Gabriel Batholomew Humphries. He was an indigent man, relying upon the Church for money from the lambs he raised and sold, but he lived a quaint life, quiet and peaceful, just as a shepherd should live by.

"Look at him...he mourns for his family even though they have already been buried underground," the reaper said when the observed from afar. The two creatures were perched upon an oak's young branches, ahead of them were the countless graves of women and children that were slaughtered under the order of Lord Spears, the ruler of the land. Men of these families were gone save for the shepherd that was mourning amongst his flock.

"Simple, 'tis grief that ails him," Executioner replied,"I've been it before."

"A poor man, very poor, yes, both in wealth and mind."

The shepherd had missed his staff, one that was used for herding, in his hand as a shovel that he leaned upon; the sheep came close to him as a way to comfort him. He was young but the time had worn him to look fairly older, his hair was golden like that of the Fallen angel told in the stories humans passed on. Executioner had grown with the races, understanding and withholding the mentalities each held. Out of all he has observed, humans were the ones to express the strongest emotions, he found them entertaining but a tinge of sympathy of his human tendencies would surface once in a while.

They watched him approach the young oak, a rope was tied among the branches. Gabriel sluggishly dragged himself to the suspended rope, the sheep fallowed, and he had a noose prepared for him. Executioner made to move but Marcello held him back. "Not yet, wait for him."

He climbed up the tree though his hair covered his eyes, preventing him from being the two gods sitting above him. He went on until he got on all fours atop a large limb of the tree; he pulled the rope up and took the ring around his neck, he tightened it and secured it. Gabriel had closed his eyes when Executioner was permitted by Marcello to be near him. Gingerly, Executioner made his way down the branches and then rested himself next to him.

"Will you push yourself through to this?" His breath hissed in Gabriel's ear and the shepherd whirled, nearly losing his balance, to look at him. He yelped but Executioner held him. "Revenge is what drives those men and yet you never join them to rebel against Lord Spears..."

"They were sent off to that bloody land, them and my brother," he answered, choking upon his words,"revenge is what I want-"

"Then power is what you'll get!" Executioner exclaimed. "Come, fall to your death but first, would you consent to my offer? Power to crush those who have wronged you, much more than human comprehension, is in my hands. Simply say yes and then I may be your servant."

Gabriel perked up, his eyes became perceptible when his bangs moved away; they were red and puffy from sleepless nights. He eyed Executioner, hungry with greed to destroy the Spears. "How can you be a servant to me and yet give me power? That makes no sense."

"The power will come should you ask further, but that will only be if you order me to do so. Again, I am not a servant to you, yet, but should you accept me and die right now, I will revive you anew and I will serve you for as young as you need." He smiled behind the shadow of the hood, Gabriel stared at him in disbelief, contemplating the deal. "Tis a Contract."

"Deals with the Devil, but what is the price?"

"For avenging your family to its utmost potential, nothing but your soul. Once your objective in life has been completed, I will consume your soul and you will be no more."

Marcello lifted an eyebrow in interest; Executioner was tempting Gabriel to give him his soul. And what temptation it was! For the shepherd had easily had give him his soul and instantly fell back. The sickening snap of a neck resounded throughout the graveyard and Executioner had burst out into a fit of laughter, only for himself to fall back and landed directly under Gabriel; he took out a dagger and sliced the rope, sending Gabriel down. His hand went to Gabriel's chest when he set him down, his nails grew long until they pierced through the cotton shirt and skin, Cinematic Records poured out and he edited them to his pleasure.

The older reaper came down and landed right by the two. "So transforming him into a reaper...he will never die."

"Not unless he fulfills his goal." He smiled.

And then coughing came from Gabriel, the sheep around them have fled, for they no longer saw the man their herder once was. He was no longer man but a reaper. Gabriel coughed and spluttered, he grasped around for anything to hold until Executioner released his hold to his body and allowed him to sit up.

"My...contract with you, it's begun?" Executioner nodded. Gabriel looked thoughtful for a moment. "...I order you to never speak. For your words may twist me and my decisions like that of the snake had done to Eve." Executioner smiled. "Now...what...am I?" He got up and walked about, testing his new body. He looked at Executioner with green eyes with rings around them, they radiated danger and yet held a fair amount of mischief.

Marcello took the liberty of speaking,"You are a God of Death, a Grim Reaper. One who collects the souls of humans..."

Gabriel looked at him, shocked. "I'll have to kill?"

"Not kill, reap. You are the embodiment of Death, as am I and him, come now, let's fix up the mess the freak had started. Honestly, you could have ordered him to speak so that I may never explain anything to you."

-...-

Undertaker stood among the balcony watching the town be washed away by a sudden storm that had unleashed itself. Ah, he had made so many three deals with the Executioner, he made him his servant, the servant granted him power through the body of a reaper, and he had cleaned him away of his past by stripping him of his name. How much Undertaker wished he never involved his identity into the matter. When him and Executoner were introduced into the Reaper Realm, Executioner ran rampant through the streets consuming any who he deemed tasteful for a bite.

They dubbed him as a demon to reapers.

To offer up as compensation, a name was the part of a soul, it is the identity of one, Undertaker gave away his name. The name was the identity the image, of a being, without it, what can a soul take the shape of? Consequentially, Undertaker's hair had whitened and his youthful appearance aged slightly. If one were to utter his name Executioner would bring destruction for the London Division and consume everyone he could find. The purpose of keeping the creature locked away was to avoid him tempting anyone to make another contract to get out from his prison.

He lived up to name once more during his confinement. He was allowed to execute any reaper and consume their souls as punishment. Of course, he waited patiently for Undertaker's for many centuries.

The only living beings that knew of his name were Marcello, the witness of his revival, and his brother, one who never knew of such a pact in transformation but was ordered to keep silent. One had no reason to unleash Executioner from his bonds but the other did. Marcello. That traitorous bastard, Undertaker doubted the destruction of the London Division was simply an order from the Ministry of Hades. He snarled and snapped his teeth.

"So you do this for the sake of finding the catalyst of the destruction of the Four European Divisions, yes?" Undertaker readied himself for a fight.

"Times have changed and now we have obligations to fill in. Apparently, you have lived out your usefulness. You have spent years torturing the one who carried the blood that ruined your life, I suppose that you've had enough."

"When you say times have changed, are you asking for it to revert back to where it once was? Where Executioner was unleashed and bringing destruction for all that lives? Everyone will hunt you down, Marcello, they will want you dead-"

"Then let them slay me! For I have done a great favor for the ones who truly promised me freedom from this form! To the real Heaven I'll go, those angels say I can go if I were to release Executioner and since you have done your life's purpose ten times over then you will no longer be able to have him fallow your orders!" Marcello cackled and Undertaker readied to harm him, he charged at him until he was drawn back by an unseen force. He was sent flying towards the banister of the balcony. Undertaker achingly lifted his head to see Executioner perching himself on the stonework, cloak open and revealing a full body with only more robes covering from his waist up and down.

Undertaker looked up at him, for once, he was the one seeing true fear. "I...you mean to say my time is up here? I won't allow it! Never! **I'M NOT DONE!**"

"You never learned how to stop, what a horrible habit you've had for so long," said Executioner. His potato sack was gone with the wind and his hood was gone as well, he had a face similar to that of Undertaker's youthful self and yet it was mixed with a variety of those whose souls he have consumed the past few days. Storms wiped the air and churned everything; it was all Executioner's doing and he was enjoying his freedom. "Pay up, Gabriel, pay up."

He wore Undertaker's beloved top hat atop his head, it nestled in his brown locks of hair, keeping it safe from the winds that billowed along his cloak. Undertaker made a move to attack him but Marcello spoke out,"It's over for you-"

But then, among the lightning that flashed around all and roaring winds and raging waters, silver stood out in the darkness and came to pierce the back of the Executioner. Undertaker's eyes threatened to pop out from shock when he recognized the clippers that protruded from the demon's chest. The pole that struck out from behind wavered and moved with the water below until Executioner used both hands as leverage to keep his balance.

"A...death scythe," the demon breathed out.

Executioner's eyes looked as though they had lost life until the pole retracted upwards, pulling up the owner and revealing him to the two reapers. The storm had suddenly abated and the rage had ended, it was so quick and so sudden bit it happened either way. The rain became drizzles and the gusts became breezes, Executioner fell forward to Marcello's feet as William popped out from the edge and came to haul himself up to the highest point of the town.

The man had barely enough strength to bring himself up, he flopped over to the safe side and seemed to have collapsed out of exhaustion. Undertaker couldn't comprehend it, he was out of words to speak but Marcello was the first to lose his composure. "YOU IDIOT, YOU DECIDE TO DIE NOW! ?" He raged on himself and began to kick Executioner's unmoving corpse, he still held the death scythe in his back. "YOU WERE PROMISING FOR MY PASSAGE TO HEAVEN! DAMN YOU, YOU VILE CREATURE!"

"Oh, my, my." Ana's voice clicked a tongue and kissed lips behind Undertaker, he didn't want to see her. "Our arrangement seems to be broken."

As Marcello yelled like a child throwing a tantrum, Undertaker softly spoke,"You, angel, what reason do you have for destroying this Division?"

"We wanted the Demon of London to be in our hands, and since he's dead this will only advance our plans. I have to thank the reaper who slayed him when he decides to come to. He just made my task easier. Marcello, quit your whining, you'll get what you want. Come now, take the body, we'll be leaving-"

Undertaker suddenly grinned, then he began to laugh. "You think he will go quickly with angels?" He cackled madly at Ana, she moved to be in front of him, she turned and gave him a perplexed look. "Look, that body doesn't have a Cinematic Record coming from him, it means that Executioner simply took possession of it and manipulated him to be a mere copy."

Marcello's screams ceased when Undertaker explained his observation; the silver reaper had calmed and reached over to the corpse, taking back his hat and placing it atop his head. "By now, Executioner would have collected my soul. Simply uttering my name unleashes him from his prison but it won't end our contract. I'm not done with William T. Spears as he is not dead. Another thing would be is that my first orders to him were to never speak, this poor chap spoke. Clearly he was never the real Executioner to begin with, I want to laugh at Marcello for never noticing."

He smirked. "Now, thanks to you two, Executioner is loose and I have nothing against him to stop him from destroying whatever he wants. But first, I'll have him destroy the all of the Reaper Realm."

"You're mad!" exclaimed Marcello as he watched Undertaker lift up his left sleeve to reveal a black band tattooed around his wrist. It glowed silver when Undertaker opened his mouth to say his words.

"Executioner, the order for you...is the destroy this world and the creatures that live within it."

And as he done so, he grabbed William and the to faded away into nothing shadows and soon into air. As he faded, he mocked them,"Now who is the traitor?"

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><p>AN: *Refers to Dante Alighieri

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	52. Locked

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji

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><p>Each species had a standard.<p>

A class if you will.

Reapers and demons were of equal level while humans were at the most bottom. Again, mixtures with human blood rendered the soul vulnerable to either of the two; angels were at another rank but one in equality to reapers and demons themselves. But once tainted with humans, the bloodline is considered useless and descendants were susceptible to anything. Grell had to praise Eric for that logic, it was common knowledge if one took the anatomy courses during their time at the Academy.

In truth, Grell would have satisfied himself for the medical teams and working at the Infirmary but his erratic tendencies, which he was conscious about, stood as a blockade for pursuing a course. So Grell settled for the field work, there were real men to compete against, it was high time he thought he would relieve himself of bowing to them. He started rough and made an impression but William was the one to crack that fortress of steel and force out the weaker, feminine side of him.

Grell lowered his head when he entered a bakery with Ronald licking at his heels.

Half will never go after whole.

Ana would flee at the sight of Sebastian Michaelis; her soul would be consumed if she even left a feather in the fountain. She was half an angel and he was a pure demon.

Common knowledge there.

Several loaves of bread were set up at a stand, each loaf fresh from the oven and ready for customers. Grell grimaced when he noted that one of the loaves were molding unnaturally. It was expected, after all, they were at the rather low class part of London where many tried to earn an honest living but fail to make it honest. Fresh as the dead was his thought when he eyed another batch sitting atop a counter. An old human, one who looked more than willing to give his soul as a barter the purchase of bread, sat upon a stool with a dog at the leg of his chair.

The two were haggard but lifted their heads to look at the two reapers cautiously entering.

"My wife died a few days ago, got up them last batches for stock, then closing this worthless place down," he gruffly stated,"just ignore them bad breads, hadn't changed it in a while."

Grell stared at him, then at the dog, who perked his ears up as though he had never done so before, as Ronald foraged through the shelves that had the rotted products. "Your wife died, sir?"

"Yeah, dropped dead...fat woman I say though, wouldn't stop eating even if her life depended on it-"

"Where's her body?" The redhead asked quite too quickly, the old man glared at him as though he saw the queer within him. Grell repeated sternly,"The body, where is it?"

He got up, the dog ached his way into standing as well when the old man, now only a head shorter than Grell, stood up as strait as he could. His back was bent and looked ready to collapse, and he tumbled forth, Grell caught him instantly and helped him to his feet as he answered,"Undertaker, but the blighter wasn't there at all...so I just had these men taking her dump her in the mass grave out of town. Now, are you going to buy the bread or ask more odder questions?"

Grell's eyes shifted to the floor and away from him, he released him and helped him back into the chair, the dog plumped back down and heaved a heavy sigh. "No, not at all...come, Ronnie."

Ronald, hidden behind the shelves of jarred berries that seemed to have been the breeding ground for fungi. popped up and eagerly fallowed Grell. The two were dressed in their usual clothes, lack a blazer or coat, though they were quite dingy. Besides their unusual hair color, they fit in with the district. Dusty, dirty, dilapidated, that was their only appearance. They scuffled through the ghetto in sad attempts to find edible provisions for their holdup in a cheap inn that they had all decided to bunk in for the next few days or so.

Eric had a substantial amount of money, he was quite the greedy man, seeing how he spent a while focusing on his salary than others until Alan came along, and had developed paranoia should he have less than fifty guineas in his pocket. It was enough to find them a place to stay but not the food to eat. As much as Eric could have bought the entire district, the quality of the produce and meat were unsubstantial for the reapers' tastes.

The four men took turns in pairs, Grell with Ronald and Eric with Alan; for obvious reasons, Eric's rage failed to recede and leaving Ronald with him was a thought Grell would never wish to entertain. With Eric trying to strangle Ronald every now and then, the redhead thought it best that the younger one's cryptic report of the collapse of the London Division would be told when Eric had calmed down.

"If you hadn't spent your time whoring girls in America, Raoul would have never found a servant and we wouldn't be in this situation."

"Yeah, it's true, I guess I did start all this, in a way...I'm not saying I'm proud of it but I'm not gonna say that I'm regretting it," Ronald sighed as the two crossed an empty street. He seemed too casual, his confinement somewhere that Raoul had placed him into had changed him somewhat; he had an even lazier air but a tinge of insanity to him. Grell could feel it but he remained quiet. "Maybe this is a punishment my own mother told me before she died. She used to say I'll be damned, and I guess I'm getting close to that. Makes me wonder though..."

Grell looked ahead of him, using the blobs of shape memorized earlier to find their way back. "Hnm?"

"Ivan never looked at me funny at all. I ruined his life, Samantha's too, but he never got the chance to beat me-"

"Do you remember the last thing you've done before you died?" Ronald went quiet. "Exactly, you can't. Depending how twisted someone's mentality is, when we revive humans into Reapers we work out the kinks they have and iron them out to be anew. Cinematic Rips I suppose, they are the strips of film containing your emotions; in turn, emotions produce memory. If I hit you right now, you'd be mad at me. Take away the anger and you won't remember that I hit you to begin with."

They crossed a bridge that was over a waterway, the redhead paused and looked out ahead towards the Thames and beyond that.

"Ivan may have been quite the work to deal with for whoever revived him, it would have been required to erase a good part of his anger towards you to ensure he wouldn't attack the wrong side during the Civil War. How it would decide to resurface now, or perhaps it never surfaced at all-"

"No, it's been there, remember? He clung to Raoul's name and face in his memory to come all the way here to fight him, in the end, he never did justice to the one who wronged him." A bottle was at their feet, Ronald picked it up and shook it, finding a bit of alcohol tinkle within the glass. He tipped it and drank a good sip or two before tossing it into the waterway, he leaned himself against the stone railing and rested his head upon his hand. "Why couldn't he have remembered me?"

Grell shrugged. "You were gone by the time Ivan came by then, wait, can't you remember what happened at the wedding?"

Ronald lifted an eyebrow and perked up slightly. "A...wedding?"

"After Eric reaped your soul, you refused to come out so you were revived into a Reaper. It happened on your wedding day, you were betrothed to Samantha, Ivan's daughter-"

He slapped his forehead. "Oh! Right! Since I'm his son-in-law, he never saw the need to kill me then..."

"That's not how it works," the red reaper sighed, rubbing his temple,"you're-"

A carriage drawn by a duo of chestnut coated horses came walking by, the wheels were soundless but the hoof beats rang through the empty street. Grell looked over his shoulder to see a certain butler driving, the two locked eyes briefly until the man snapped the reins to ease the horses into a fast paced trot. Grell huffed, his eyes were blurry and he failed to recognize who the man was, he shifted in his position and returned to his musings, ignoring the carriage's sudden decision to pick up the pace.

Ronald stared at the carriage, he noted the family's coat of arms painted in gold at the back. "Is it normal for nobles to drive through here?"

"Nothing's normal so I'm not surprised. Come, let's go look for Eric's cigarettes if we can't get food."

So a whole would never come after another whole as well.

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><p>AN: Sorry for the shortness and the delay, I was just feeling a bit uninspired for a bit~!

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	53. Wanted Attention

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji

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><p>Sebastian Michaelis. A butler of many talents that impressed even Grell when he was disguised as an incompetent butler of the late Lady Durless, Grell had only found a simple fascination in him; he was enthralled and yet never enamored to a point of an obsession. The fact that he gained some sort of attention made Grell hunger for more, after all, William was the kind to ignore and give cold shoulder.<p>

The person that they were seeking refuge from had breezed by, more as ignored them, leaving Grell and Ronald to gaze out towards the murky Thames.

London was a gray place, especially in the slums.

Grell rubbed his eyes and then walked on, this time with Ronald at the front and leading; they went down the same street the carriage had gone. "You know of Eric's preferred brand?"

"He likes anything heavy, especially now. I know he wants to kill me and all but you gotta earn an enemy's trust if you want them on your side, right?" Ronald shrugged. The statement contradicted itself, Grell noted; an enemy is one who opposes your side, simply swaying them to be by you is simply impossible. They turned several corners, Grell could hear the distant clops and creaks from a horse and carriage. "Funny."

"Hnm? What darling?" Grell asked.

"We're going at the exact direction that noble's going..."

_What a coincidence._

The two walked on after the noble as if attracted to them until the carriage stopped in front of a narrow alley. Ronald sped up slightly, Grell slightly jogged after, as they neared the freshly paused carriage. The driver got down and then performed a dead stop, Grell failed to see his features but he guessed that he was somewhat surprised seeing how he saw a blur of his arm on the rail.

"Grell?"

That voice, deep, dark, and yet holding a mock-up of warmth, rang through Grell's ears and yet, as he usually had done in the past encounters, he sprung forth, lunging at him.

"Sebastian! My, what a joyous reunion, yes? Oh, but the hell I've been through is unimaginable!" Grell was caught in the demon's arms but never held as he embraced him. "Please, hear me through! I have something you would want to hear!"

"Hey, I'm gonna go inside and get it," Ronald said in the background, he left them in their meeting and disappeared into the shadows. Grell looked up at Sebastian, eyes wide, only to see him glaring; it was a fair warning to stay away and Grell instantly got off. Sebastian brushed himself. "For whatever issue you have, I hope you can resolve it. You entirely unprofessional."

Grell pouted and went off to the side as Sebastian went to fetch Ciel from the carriage. The door opened and Grell immediately blurted out,"I'll reveal to you the circumstances of your parents' death if you give my friends and I a place to lodge safely for the meantime!"

The young blue haired nephew of the late Madame Red came clambering out, shocked at the exclamation and reacted in a similar way. "What the hell! ?" He yelled, Grell went to touch him but was shoved away to the ground. "What's he doing here! ?"

"I know not and care less to learn, come, we must meet with Lau..."

And then, without protesting or shouting once more, Grell watched them leave him on the side of the street. He wanted to cry but then shook his head; he instantly sprung to his feet and pursued them viciously, grabbing Ciel by the shoulder and suddenly snaring to intimidate him,"I went through a good six months in fucking Hell, I have no home and no job to live by; if I had enough money from a fat salary then I wouldn't stoop this low to ask a _brat_ a fucking favor."

He pulled him in to his chest and threatened to bite him by leaning close to his ear.

"Now listen here, boy, the London Division has collapsed and there are no more rules to live by..."

Ciel, today dressed in blue but wearing an overcoat and top hat, responded unemotionally,"And why should I care for the likes of you? So far, I don't see how your kind are any benefit for anyone-"

"I'll tell you who killed your parents," he pressed harshly.

"That would be cheating and there would be no use in my position in this life-"

"Then I'll reap your soul right here and now if that is how you see yourself!" His hand came by and summoned his chainsaw but without a free hand to pull the cord, the engine failed to activate. He held tight to it and the boy, irritated, Grell's eyebrow twitched as Ciel failed to flinch. He grew frustrated and then three Ciel to the ground, reflecting Sebastian's treatment of him earlier. "You said you were going to Lau, weren't you! ?"

Grell took off sprinting down the alley, chainsaw blasting itself to life. He ran out of options and since there was no William to stop him, Grell blazed through the door and slew the first man he saw, causing screams to resonate from the people inside the smoke house. This was his chance chance to gain Ciel's attention, and it worked when he distantly heard Ciel shout,"Sebastian! Stop him!"

Colors swirled as Grell inhaled the fine opium in the air, he heard Ronald bellowing in the background of strident screams; Grell hacked away at anyone he saw move. "Ronald, kill them all! Just do it!"

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	54. Lowlife to No life

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji

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><p>Ronald was simply talking to a dealer when Grell flew past in a red fury and sliced up a serving girl closest to him. Blood splashed to Ronald, soaking his front, as the opium filled room burst into complete and utter chaos and hysteria; utter shock was to his face as Grell barked at him to kill all in sight.<p>

The last time anyone ordered him to ensue a massacre was only beneficial; Lacey, his buddy, assured him it was for the best but there was just something about this that Grell was only doing it to vent out something. Either this or Grell simply wanted attention. A shade came zooming by Ronald, causing him to nearly drop the bag of freshly packaged opium. He noted it to be the demon, Sebastian, rushing in to forestall Grell from doing any further damage.

Limbs were airborne, splashes became puddles of blood, and flesh rained all over.

It was like the courtyard back at Wilshires. Ronald took a step forth but only found that he squished something that was once part of a human body. He shuddered but was pushed about by the humans trying to escape, but Grell only neared them and diced them to pieces; Ronald saw his eyes. They were the familiar green and ringed orbs, only they held something of rage, hatred, and insanity. They meant he was set to kill and kill all in sight.

He grew slightly frightened until a black hand came to cover Grell's eyes while another snaked around his torso to hold him back from anymore damage. Ronald took note of the immediate restrain and dropped the opium back to a pile of flesh to snatch away the roaring chainsaw. A simple click to button and the machine came from a blast to a purr to a silent murmur that ended in nothing. Ronald's adrenaline had kicked in and was at full blast for anything, Grell's teeth revealed themselves as he tried to bring his head around back to bite at the butler.

"What makes you reduced to being as low as this! ?" Sebastian shouted to Grell, the redhead suddenly stopped fighting and hung limp in his grasp.

Grell could only shake his head lopsidedly. He sighed out, voice shaking,"My life has fallen to pieces, you suppose I have anything better to do?"

"If you were reasonable, you would have found another job in this world and make a new life off of that..."

Ronald held tightly to the death scythe, worried of Grell saying the wrong thing or sparking another rage that would end up in another mass homicide. He stepped back and away, he picked up the opium on the ground and went off from the scene to check any other damage. He found several silk curtains, which stretched from the ceiling to the ground, slivered to several strands by Grell, they dangled at eyelevel now and he ducked his head, curious as to what they covered earlier.

It was dead quiet, whimpers and whines from the dying and scared were drowned away when he was face to face with a green blade. He recognized it to be jade or some material related to the color as he instinctively brought Grell's chainsaw upwards as a reflex. The blades clashed but then the jade blade was cleanly sliced from its hilt; landing on a clatter a few ways ahead, Ronald whipped his head to face his assailant.

The man was young, fair skin, eyes closed oddly enough, and he wore green robes that a foreigner would wear; he was Chinese and he could guess the man was Lau, the manager of the establishment. He seemed pleasant but looks, as learned before, could kill and he backed away as a precaution even though he, Lau, was a human. The quiet murmurs at the other side of the room indicated that Grell and Sebastian were still discussing his actions.

"This is quite a bloodbath."

Lau was unfazed by everything. Ronald grew concerned but kept his guard up. It was quiet between the two, awkward and foreboding but the reaper simply wanted to turn back and run to Grell. Cinematic Records began to fill the room, Grell had managed to literally kill all save for the single man before him; Ronald backed up once more, only to trip, stumble back, and land on his shoulder blades to the hard tile. He hissed in pain as he rolled himself to the side and picked himself up.

He looked at his legs to see them tangled upon a woman's body. She was mangled, disfigured by her face, and simply held a look of terror.

Ronald's heart skipped a beat, it slammed up to his throat, and he wanted to scream.

Her chest and torso were shredded apart, as if Grell opened her and ripped out her insides to fit the title of "Jack the Ripper". Her breasts were replaced with blood profusely pouring and never ending, her face was slashed apart with skin barely holding (it was her eyes that told her emotions), and her limbs were bent the other way around. Ronald had the urge to vomit but nothing came up as he hadn't eaten he could do was crawl away, weakly, clutch his chest, and pray for whatever high being to come down and comfort him.

Ronald was so fixated on the her, for she was barely breathing. The man knelt down to gather her up in his arms and, as if shedding tears for the first time, cried so openly, sobbing and whimpering mournfully. She's not dead and yet he mourns for her. It crossed Ronald's mind that humans were of the weaker species. She only had a few seconds left to live and all Lau could do was hold her.

He remembered seeing this before, some time ago yet it was playing back in the form of a Cinematic Record before his eyes.

-...-

_He sliced her throat wide open and simply left her in a bloody heap on the mattress, dead and nude. His eyes glazed with fright and yet pleasure, mostly sadistic euphoria. An hour ago she was screaming for him to keep going and only a second ago she was screaming for him to stop. He grinned and then frowned, his hands and sleeves were bloody but he went to the nearby desk and set up a parchment and pen to scribble a suicide note, forged out of her handwriting, and left it on the bed next to her._

_Ronald took the bottle of rum and drank it with a large gulp, swallowing it whole left a burn that tickled his chest. He simply jumped out of the nearest window and waited on the roof for her husband to return, and he did as few minutes later._

_"Cathy!" He heard him say it so lovingly, Ronald took another swig and swished it in his mouth, waiting and watching from a corner of the window from his perch. The man's voice became worried and almost panicked. Ronald had made quite a name in town, styles and circumstances left all men in terror of leaving their wives and daughters alone for a spell or two. Sometimes he killed, sometimes he left them alone, sometimes he makes them disappear. Ronald was bored in that town and, without anything to do and having a high enough social status, the law failed to touch him under his family political and economical power._

_Ronald tried to stifle his laughter and was successful when he watched the door creak open slowly, timidly._

_"Cathy? Sweathear-NO! Oh God! Oh Lord! No!" He was a bald farmer, barely something his wife would want. Ronald was young, dashing, and devilishly playful to sway any woman, afraid or not of the faith afterward. The man threw himself to the bed and ignored the note, he brought the woman's warm corpse to his person and held her tightly, rocking and crying for her to come back. "Please, no! NO!"_

_Ronald's lips twitched, satisfied, and he thrust himself to a stand and began to make his way down to the ground through a makeshift ladder on the side of the wall of the two storey house. He enjoyed the strained music of the man as neighbors all around came out of their houses in the middle of the night, roused by those sounds of dread._

-...-

But Ronald could not smile at this. The mess ahead. He clutched the chainsaw.

Grell did this. Grell murdered this woman without a single thought. Ronald watched the life leave her eyes and her Cinematic Records burst up. He threw himself into a panic. If Grell could senselessly murder someone, if he were never acting to begin with, Ronald could only come to a conclusion.

Grell was the person who would come to end him, as told to him by someone in a distant memory out of vengeance for his loved one.

Lau let out another beastly cry and spoke in a foreign language Ronald failed to comprehend. Ronald looked over to see Grell was released by Sebastian and the two were speaking quite calmly. Ronald gazed at the woman once more and then stood up, taking Grell's death scythe and still holding the bag of opium. He slipped over some flesh but caught himself as he blazed passed the two conversing men.

How many women did he bring Death to? How many people had he reaped to bring Death to as well? He can suddenly hear their souls screaming within his mind, he blocked his ears and sprinted faster with Grell shouting,"Where are you going! ?" He was ignored as he bumped strait into the boy, Ciel, that stood outside patiently waiting. He felt the boy take a hold of his wrist, causing him to whirl back. Ronald could only yell at him,"That man, he was right! I can't remember who but he was right!"

Ronald wanted to throw everything out and start anew, just as Sebastian instructed, but Ciel held him. "Before you go into a mass panic, tell me exactly what you saw..."

He failed to respond and wretched the hand away from Ciel. Frantically, he turned on the engine and allowed it to roar full blast, he flipped it over so that the rotating blades faced the sky. Ronald watched it in mild interest but with the same paranoia he held from what he saw. Grell's panicked voice echoed in the distant alley, along with the clacks of his heels and Sebastian's shoes. They were sprinting for him and old gotten a good few feet towards Ronald before he murmured,"I only wanted love from those girls."

The piercing scream over the chainsaw's roar resonated throughout the street, Grell pleaded,"RONNIE!"

But they were too late to talk him out of it. Sebastian, concerned for his master's mentality, leaped to Ciel's side and covered his eyes entirely as Ronald brought the blades over his left shoulder and began to carve himself to the bone and to his heart, the machinery stopped, only briefly for him to take a large gulp of air, and then went through his torso diagonally until his limbs failed to carry on its task.

Chunks of flesh flew, bones ground to dust, and blood covered the white pavement. Grell could only watch as a helpless witness, confused, ignorant of Ronald's sudden turn for the worse. Ronald fell to back, engine still running, and then died right there on the spot. Grell could only go over to remove the chainsaw and thrust himself over his chest to weep over him. He moaned, facing Sebastian with instantly red eyes after a minute or so of grieving,"You...you...asked what reduced me to be as low as this, didn't you...Sebastian Michaelis?"

Sebastian remained indifferent.

"I change my answer...this is why! THIS IS WHY I'M THIS WAY! WE CHANGED, SEBASTIAN!" His uproar became faint into a quiet hiss,"Give me and the rest a place to stay or else more of this or even worse shall happen."

The demon chuckled,"The death of one reaper is simply beneficial, it's rather hilarious to see you once proud creatures bring yourselves to living in the streets like rats. To be honest, after listening to your story, or fantasy, I am rather concerned about other matters."

"O-other m...matters?"

"Oh? You don't know? You are quite lost in all this...to be truthful, I knew that your little Division would come down at some point-"

"Sebastian," the blue haired boy suddenly spoke firmly, Sebastian instantly replied,"Yes?"

"Stop taunting him and let him and his friends come with us, this is an order. After all, his appearance here, of all places, makes me think that this has to do with the issue Her Majesty has given me to resolve."

Grell could only stare at the demon, who now frowned, and then closed his eyes and gave a curt nod with the famous response,"Yes, my Lord."

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><p>AN: So I killed off Ronald there...note, he's never coming back! Sorry to all you fans out there!

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	55. Another Mess He Makes

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji

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><p>Undertaker slammed the lid over William, he even sat upon it to ensure extra security for the fallen reaper that had been knocked out for a good few days or so. He was grieving, not for the loss of the entire London Division but for his beloved hat, which was left upon the head of that false body that attempted to approach from behind. Three days, no food nor water, sleep nor bath, contact nor communication, not even with the reaper underneath him.<p>

"He's out and about," he uttered to himself, or more to William,"and I have to keep him occupied. How long do I have? A month? A year? I can tell him to do specific tasks, prolong his entertainment. Oh, I should have ordered him to destroy Hell but those freaks are the ones with sensible minds. Am I at loss? Yes, I quite am."

He got up, as if completely forgetting his hostage, and went over to the mirror. It was dusty, also cracked here and there, so he took his sleeve and cleaned it until it shined. He stumbled over a couple Cinematic Records for the pitcher of water, then he noticed something odd; leather bound books were scoured left and right on the floor. Sure his establishment was old and a bit run down, but never unorganized. He picked up the books up and looked them over. Phantomhives and Spears.

Well, the Spears before William.

Someone foraged through them, they seemed to be looking for an answer. He placed them atop William's coffin and went to gather another stack until he looked at the mirror. Undertaker was rarely a being to be startled but the reflection of a worn out, but relatively robust, Alan had spontaneously appeared.

Books went flying from the mortician's arms as he yelped and turned to see Alan standing parallel from the mirror. "I...thought you were...oh, forget what I say, boy, come, come here! Come now!" Undertaker entreated urgently as if the Devil were to appear out of nowhere, just as Alan had done. The young reaper went around William's coffin to be by him, Undertaker had open arms out to him. Much to his surprise, Alan, who had a hand behind his back, suddenly pulled out a top hat.

"Your hat was given to me by Executioner, I know for a fact that it's a message for me to come here so I did-"

Undertaker's bony fingers snatched it away and placed it on his head, then his hand went to Alan's cheeks to investigate if he were truly alive and well. "Oh, oh, my, Alan, you're here, I thought Executioner finished you! Oh, Alan, I apologize, everything, but boy, what were you doing in my shop?"

Alan stared up at him unemotionally, it scared Undertaker; he had that look, one he hadn't seen in quite a while. And that look wasn't made by Alan, it was made by William, back when his memories were freshly erased but he was ready to slaughter anyone. His memories, at least he remembered enough to come to his parlor. Undertaker wondered what Raoul had done, perhaps he removed the Thorns of Death but in the process removed Alan's memories.

He feared that Alan was lost forever. Undertaker quickly thought of an idea.

"Boy, Alan, who was your father?"

"Was? Is...my father is you-"

"No, no, no...no." Undertaker was in denial, he was trying to slip out of accepting this. "Is Eric Slingby important to you?" He damn well knew Alan treasured him, that blond reaper, with his life, there was no way that-

"That man is revolting. Why would I love anyone as psychotic as him?" Alan was cold in his tongue. Undertaker cringed.

The only family he has left was back, and he was never there.

He contemplated killing him with his bare hands to complete the torture of life, just to end this miserable soul. Time was in his hands but Undertaker felt that he couldn't waste it on efforts that would be smashed to pieces later on. He sighed, frustrated now, and began,"You escaped that flood, with who?"

"Eric, a lady named Grell, and a boy named Ronald. I only came here to ask where Heather is...is she alive at least?"

"I know not." He forgotten about her. "I'll find her, but for the meantime...tell me, what did you learn from the Phantomhives?"

Alan simply stared at him. "My mother was Claudia Phantomhive, great-great grandmother of Ciel Phantomhive, the currant head of the family..."

Undertaker nodded. "Of course, Richie's name was wiped away when he died...so it must label him as simply a reaper," he mused, then he sprang an idea,"boy, listen to this...you are the original heir to that title, should you be here your name would never be Alan Humphries but Alan Phantomhive. That will be your name, you will be Phantomhive...therefore, you go off and claim your title and head but never kill Ciel. Can you do that for me, boy? In return, I'll search for Heather."

He doubted Undertaker's sudden idea but agreed.

"What should I do then?"

"Go to Ciel's manor, off in the country, and stay there. I believe I heard he was in London for the day so you better surprise him. Take one of my horses, they will lead you the way."

And so then Alan left, leaving to go to Undertaker's stable. When the door slammed shut, Undertaker smirked. _What another mess I'll create._

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	56. Penmanship

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji

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><p>The carriage went to a slow and eventual stop in front of the rickety inn Grell and the others housed themselves temporarily. Sebastian never once got down to help Grell out of the carriage so the poor man had to do that himself, only he stepped out and collapsed face first into the pavement. He was still crying, tears pouring and eyes red like a reddler had got to him and painted his eyes crimson. Pitifully Grell managed to work himself up and step up to the door of the inn.<p>

An innkeeper, one of the two which were a husband and wife, sat at the desk playing cards with herself. "We're checking out," he murmured, she nodded, uncaring, as he walked around the corner to go up a spiral stair case. His heels clicked on the wooden panels as he went down a narrow corridor to his room, he looked in and gathered the only possession he had, which was his red coat. He went out for Eric and Alan's room, only to find the door ajar and the sound of a page turning against the cloth of the reader.

Grell poked his head in, timidly, to see Eric.

The blond was situated in a chair but the room was in a full array. Even the bedsheets were pulled off the bed, the mattress itself was against the window, clothes were scattered, and two death scythes propped neatly by Eric's chair were all there to suggest something went completely wrong. At first impression, Grell thought that they had gotten caught up in a tryst of passion or so but the way Eric was turning the page in rage suggested an entirely different event went on.

"Where's Alan?" He asked quietly.

"Gone."

It was so simple, chaste, curt. Grell felt like Eric took a stab at him indirectly.

"G...-one? Gone-"

And then Eric threw the worn down book to the floor, its leather cover slapped the wood with a strident thud that make Grell shirk heavily. "He's fucking gone! He's gone because the Thorns of Death are gone! They're gone because of Raoul! Raoul's only being here, in England, is because of that son of a bitch, rich ass shit named Ronald Knox! Alan simply never saw a reason for me protecting him! Fuck! Grell, this is fucked up! I got Alan, he's not Alan. He's gone..."

That sudden outburst made Grell burst into tears, Eric leaped up to his feet and grabbed Grell, pushing him against the wall, cornering him just like Undertaker had done so threateningly. Grell could sense it. Eric was going to kill him whether the answer was something he liked or not, whether he even told anything to begin with. Grell was crying once more. Watching Ronald die and having the only person who has any personal connections to him suddenly assault him made him feel lonely, weak, and pathetic.

Grell's breath hitched.

"P...please...n-not...I have..." He tried to speak but the hiccups weren't helping. Oh, how much he wished William were there. "I...Ronnie, Ronald, he's dead! He's dead now, you still rave about what he done!"

"Dead? Dead you say?" Eric threw a fist into Grell's face. "Then this is all your fault!"

Grell squealed and screamed but then Eric silenced him with his other hand. Grell looked over to the side and saw a shattered mirror. He tried to reach for it in his struggle but then gave up. Grell whimpered, he gave him that desperate look and then Eric had a tint of realization in his eyes; he released Grell and sighed to himself. He closed his eyes. Perhaps he noticed that Grell was the only company he had redhead had always known the blond was plagued by loneliness and would always need at least someone to accompany him.

Grell, finally released from that grip of Death, gasped and began to cry even harder. Much to his surprise, Eric wrapped his hands around him and pulled him into a tight embrace. Grell hugged him back and sobbed into his broad chest,"Ronald's gone...just don't put the blame on him, at least, just don't...please...I don't want to remember him that way."

To put in logical terms, Ronald was the initial catalyst to their problems as far as Grell knew. Grell knew that but refused to fallow it; he too understood the urges for murder, all out of love.

"Eric," he rasped,"I got Ciel Phantomhive to take us to his place for safety..."

Eric sighed deeply once more,"That's the only good news I've heard in a while..."

-...-

Sebastian had, so reluctantly, found a large wooden crate that was large enough for Ronald's limp form to fit into. The demon had it situated atop the carriage with ropes tied around to keep him from bumping all around to cause much attention to the public eye. He watched ahead of the two horses for the street until his mind began to wander into the past.

The Demon of the Library, the Executioner of All, names were everything back then. Sebastian smirked.

He snapped the reins.

Eternity had shown him numerous things, but that demon had shown him true fear. It was the only thing Sebastian revered besides the loss of a worthy soul such as his Master. He had seen him tear apart demons, cleave reapers with their death scythes, and grind humans to create a humble meal for himself; Sebastian was one of the lucky few that evaded him but could only watch in horror.

Coldness sank into the depths of his hallow chest. The thought of him, that skeletal monster cloaked in black, made him shiver, just slightly. When the humans looked to God for protection and the reapers looked to their death scythes, demons looked to the Lucifer. Of course, like the traitor he was, and is, he abandoned all for his own sake when the Executioner came about.

_Belief in a leader that would leave at the drop of a hat, what fools we were back then._

He was drawn to reality to listen to the conversation that had suddenly began behind him. His hearing sharpened greatly just to hear their voices.

-...-

"...so there were four of you, now only two. It'll only make it easier...will you tell me what exactly happened?" Ciel watched the two reapers that were not making eye contact with anyone. Grell had his hands folded to his lap, he looked uptight, even more than a woman would normally be. The carriage bumped a bit on the road when they went through a transition between streets.

"You're just a brat-"

And then Grell pinned his heel to Eric's foot. "Stop that!" He suddenly turned his attention to Ciel. "I prefer to head to your manor before discussing anything else further."

"Well, then let's start with general issues in London, hopefully you hadn't all been living under a rock all this time. Nearly a year has passed since I saw you, Grell, and if there were any encounters prior to this I can say that they weren't pleasant...at all." Grell looked crestfallen at the last two words; the boy was still angered at his aunt's muder by the redhead's hands. The two reapers went quiet and allowed him to speak. "A letter from the Queen told me that there had been numerous bodies scattered across London-"

"It's the Victorian Era, those bodies must be in the slums so it shouldn't be surprising," Eric huffed,"that's what gives the overtime."

"You didn't let me say what the bodies were." Once more, the pair went quiet. "I myself went to look over some and noticed they all had eyes similar to yours. Whatever is going on in your world, it is breaching into this one. Coroners find their limbs sewn on with such haste but does it seem to be any importance to any of you?"

Grell glanced at Eric. "I doubt those reapers ever made it home," he uttered shakily, he rubbed his eyes,"but yes, I think I may be familiar with these reapers. Would you...could you take us to the bodies-" Eric grabbed Grell's sleeve. "Hm?"

"If these bodies were scattered all around the city I can only guess that they're baits set up by those angels, I rather not go there because it'll blow your-" He emphasized the word to indicate Ciel. "-purpose for even having us under your protection. As much as I hate to do this, I'll hang my head low under your butler with the way things are now."

"And how are things?" Ciel lazily looked at him. "If a supernatural killer were to be here I wouldn't be stupid enough to go back to the scene of the crime. Sebastian can handle as much as I order him to but this case, even he suggested to not take a part in it to begin with. He won't tell me why though, even if I demand he does, he simply tells half the truth."

"So the truth he partially tells you is...?" Grell looked directly at him.

"There is a higher being that consumes the souls of reapers and bodies of demons, and that being is in your world."

Eric had a cogitating demeanor at the description, he had a supposition,"There is a reaper in the London Division that executes reapers. He goes by "Executioner", I did a bit of research on him, he's nothing more than an old, madman who doesn't talk but just punishes reapers. He's weird but nothing too drastic. His past is too blurred and he doesn't have a Cinematic Record."

"Then what if that Executioner can eat demons?"

"A reaper eating other reapers and demons would only be a true monster, I doubt it's him."

Ciel could only give that cocky smirk. "I think he fits Sebastian's details. Now, dropping that, we're heading to Undertaker's parlor. Since Lau is unreachable for the moment and that I find you both at his smoke house, I don't believe that drugs would have a very small part in this." Grell shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Investigators found odd bottles of pills on their person but I can't say whether-"

"Drugs played an important part in our world, I assure you." Grell fumbled through his pockets and pulled out the Scarlet, about six pills were left inside and they all tapped around when he gave it a little shake. "They must have found this, it's a powerful medication used to give the release from pain completely. Very useful but drawbacks are done, after all, it does erase some memories when administered at high doses. That is what happened to our friend, the one that is missing."

"Do you have any idea where your friend could have went? I'm not going to waste my time looking for him though."

Eric remained quiet since the two avoided stating Alan's name.

"I know he was rather close to Undertaker, but the bounder isn't at his parlor, I think he's still stuck in our world. An old man earlier told me that Undertaker hasn't been there a few fays ago to take his wife's body for a burial."

"Oh? The bodies of reapers were gathered together dropped by his shop this morning. He even signed a report himself." He pulled out piece of parchment and gave to to Grell to look over, the redhead placed the pills away to read over the scribbled words. For some odd reason, the words looked neat and organized. "They said he cut his hair for some reason."

The blond leaned to read it as well, his fingers clenched his knee. It's not the Undertaker's penmanship, it was Alan's.

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><p>AN: Undertaker is not Alan's father, it was Richardson.

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	57. Bloody Corpse

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji

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><p>There they were, standing outside of Undertaker's parlor; it hadn't changed a bit since Grell's last visit here, which was during his adventure as the second half of Jack the Ripper. His eyes fell upon a bloodstained cart that had been placed by the door, possibly the number of bodies had been such a myriad that the owner of the establishment had decided to keep his cart in case of any future uses.<p>

The idea of Alan growing up in a funeral home was morbid, yet at the sight of anything disgusting would make the young reaper cringe and scream while creating feeble attempts to get away from it all. Grell was the first out of them all to move forth, he even ventured towards the creaky door, opening it and allowing light to pour into the dim entrance.

He allowed it to stay open, letting Ciel step in first with Sebastian right behind him. Grell held it longer for Eric to bring in the box that contained Ronald's corpse. He grimaced when blood seeped from the cracks and to the concrete flooring.

"Undertaker?" Ciel demanded more than asked for him. A few thuds from above and then, from around the corner behind Undertaker's oak desk, came the older reaper himself, garbed in his usual outfit than a uniform. His trademark had was missing and his bangs were oddly trimmed off. Ciel suddenly looked skeptic, if not, surprised.

"He's a reaper," he uttered, then he faded back into his composure as Undertaker grinned,"I suppose you have for answers about those odd-eyed bodies, yes?"

Sebastian spoke out,"As usual, you're right. And say that we have another one that we personally came to deliver to you. If you can, Mr. Slingby." With a strident scrape to the stone floor, Eric dragged the crate out and then forced one edge to open. Grell watched in disgust as Undertaker drummed his fingers together, as if he were a child waiting for a conveyance of a magic trick before him.

Undertaker even giggled,"Oooooh, say that this body interests me and your pay would be free this time! If only Alan were here..."

Eric stopped midway in opening the crate at the mention of Alan, then he looked over at Grell, the redhead tried to keep his interest on Undertaker. Seeing Ronald's mangled body once more would break him. Eric grunted and then split the wood completely. The top popped open, revealing Ronald to Undertaker, who suddenly ceased his giddy persona.

"What happened?"

The sound of a heart pounding became loud. Grell thought that his heartbeat was matching those beats, Undertaker had taken a hand inside and pulled Ronald out by his collar, holding him as though he were a newborn pup. Undertaker sharply insisted,"What happened?"

Grell, with his eyes having fallowed to Undertaker, had trained them upon Ronald. "He used my death scythe to kill himself," he answered for everyone, save for Eric, who were witnesses to the unfortunate accident. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Sebastian cover Ciel's eye, probably for the sake of keeping his sanity.

"The boy killed himself, he killed himself. Tell me why did he do that! ?" Undertaker suddenly threw the body to the wall. With a sickening thud, Ronald planted headfirst into the stone wall, Grell cried out and even Eric shouted,"What the fuck is your problem! ?"

Grell winced when Undertaker whirled about to yell at the redhead,"How did it happen? Did you watch his Cinematic Records? Did you! ?"

Grell shook his head. But he realized something. When the death scythe purged into Ronald, the strips of Cinematic Records failed to appear. Grell could understand that his eyesight was poor but he could have at least said something. Then, before Grell could say what he could, Undertaker looked over to Eric and exploded in front of him,"I know you were dispatched to America at some point for backup, Alan reminded me of that some time ago before this, why did you return with him?"

A black nail was pointed at the lump of flesh.

"Because I turned him into a reaper, that's what!" Eric spat. "His soul didn't want to be reaped so I let him live! Is that so bad-"

"You expected Alan to be here," Undertaker suddenly chuckled madly. Eric clenched his jaw as Undertaker broke into laughter,"There's no use in coming after him! Boy can't even remember who was his boss!" He waved his hands in the air. "I find it hilarious to see you just about to lose your mind-"

And then, without warning, Eric had, not yelled, not shouted, unleashed an inhuman barrage of mixed words, then thundering steps of his stature, he launched himself at Undertaker, who could only laugh ever so harder. A death scythe was summoned and was poised at the ready to lop off the mortician's head. He was so close, too close, Ciel could only shout,"Stop him, Sebastian!" And the butler immediately took off as well, grabbing Eric's arm and then hurling him towards the stone wall to snap him back into his former place.

A dropped saw was taken in by Grell, he had grown quite wary of Eric and feared him but his actions were becoming too predictable. Sebastian hooked both of Eric's arms and hauled him up to his feet, holding him in place as he struggled.

Among the Undertaker's strident shrieks, Grell spoke out, loud and firm, in a way William would have done to place some order within chaos,"Why ask for Ronald's Cinematic Records?"

Then the laughter stopped abruptly, Undertaker looked at Grell; the look he gave him was alarming, like he was trying to read Grell. The redhead glared strait at him, silently demanding an answer, and he got one.

"I've seen this before, when a human soul is converted into a reaper and carries the guilt of some part of their past but then eventually dies then the soul would not be present for a proper reaping. Of course, you ask why I want to know if Cinematic Records come from the boy's body, which have not, and you fail to ask why I ponder over Eric's reason for transforming the idiot into a reaper. Simple, Ronald is held back by gui-"

"He never felt guilt or asked for repentance," Eric spat,"so you could rule out guilt for Ronald's soul withdrawing."

Sebastian kicked him behind the knee and concluded,"So you mean the reaper's soul is still in the body." Undertaker nodded, smiling slight but then frowning. "Then exactly what is keeping his soul within his body?"

"Perhaps a grudge? I remember, back at Wilshires, his soul was transferred with Raoul's, I can say that Raoul may have taken Samantha under his control and used her own Cinematic Rips to manipulate Ronald's own soul. must say, for a human having extensive knowledge in the body of our kind I would have loved to study with him." He wandered over to a coffin and sat down. The Cinematic Records were stacked one atop another, he rested an arm upon one. "But what a twisted soul he is, doing all of this for the sake of revival...it's always appeared in myths for immortality to be gained..."

He sighed dreamily.

"Wait, grudge?" Ciel asked, he hadn't spoken the entire time though Grell had crept to his side and covered his eye while holding Eric's death scythe away from the boy. Ciel never fidgeted under the touch but remained calm, understanding that the corpse across the room was too gruesome. Undertaker's attention reverted on to Eric, ignoring Ciel, and demanded,"Who was Ronald Knox?"

Eric snorted,"A rapist and murderer, he had a lot of public enemies." Undertaker clucked his tongue. "He used to complain voices were shouting at him from time to time, I fixed his Cinematic Record and bit and he turned out normal."

"Say that those voices of the dead came to him the minute he watched me slaughter Lau's associates?" Grell inquired. He felt guilt upon his heart. So he was the true murderer of Ronald. Tears threatened to pour from his eyes. "...I basically killed him."

"Being touched by Raoul may have triggered memories to resurface in his soul," Undertaker mused thoughtfully, he scratched the back of his head, his eyes fell upon Ciel,"but now that that was combed out, what service do I owe to you, Earl Ciel Phantomhive?"

Then the entire room fell icy cold, even Ciel felt it and backed more into Grell for warmth. The silver reaper was smiling warmly and yet there was something amiss about him; it was enough to send chills down Sebastian's back. Eric and Grell exchanged worried glances and concluded that Undertaker had an eerier air to him than normal. Fear suddenly radiated throughout the room, Sebastian could be heard sniffing the air, his eyes were fixated upon the coffin Undertaker seated himself upon.

Ciel's hand reached behind to touch Grell's slacks, he uttered,"What's going on?"

Grell could only whisper,"William."

Undertaker's head perked up.

"Oh, he must be awake...perhaps I ought to open it up-"

"Please, do so!" Grell cried only to be fallowed by Sebastian roaring,"NO! KEEP THAT CLOSED!"

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	58. A Heart that Stopped Beating

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji

A/N: I've been at loss for inspiration, therefore, this story would go on hiatus until I feel motivated to write on once more. Thanks for reading this fic, I might rewrite it when I feel up to it.

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><p>Undertaker froze when knives were thrown precisely at the lid of the coffin to prevent whatever that was coming to stay put. The older reaper gave a snarl and hand his fingers pry at the edges to get the coffin to open, Grell shouted,"Why? It's William!"<p>

But the redhead went unnoticed and Sebastian swooped around to ensnare Ciel into his arms, he made a run for the door, only to have Undertaker cackling behind him so suddenly, the room dropped ever so deeper into the cold that came from the coffin. In only a manner of seconds did beakers containing liquids freeze with glass cracking under pressure. With Ciel in tow, Sebastian went for the door, only to find that the lock and handle had frozen shut.

Sudden actions made Ciel yelp,"What's the meaning of this? Put me down, Sebastian-"

"I find it funny, demon, that you're the only one running for your life. Come, put yourself back here, I scared you too much, did I?" Undertaker growled viciously, his hands quickly took the handles of the utensils and tossed them in the same direction as Ronald. "Reapers are no longer running the show here, look at them, one dead, one blind, one mad, the list goes on and on! You think we can harvest souls in England? You think we can fight you? Why run?"

Sebastian could only glower at this. He wanted to speak but he stilled his tongue, his hand reached for the door's nob once more; he literally tore the door off its hinges with a single jerk. Confused, Grell was oblivious to the sights but was open to the sounds. Each drop of a knife, every pin! had an ominous effect to the cool atmosphere. Grell rubbed his eyes as Undertaker got up from the coffin, his boots thundering against the hardwood flooring.

"Why call us reapers anymore? We're just freaks running around nowadays, I mean, had you seen the bodies in the coffins?" Undertaker smiled madly and brought his hand to the edge of the coffin he once sat upon, he wretched the lid wide open, he tossed it to the ground nearby and broke into laughter again. The first sight that came to be were the fain glows of Cinematic Rips; they were faint but were growing in intensity of light.

Grell, knowing better, backed away towards Eric until he found himself behind him; the larger reaper had his saw summoned to his hand, waiting for the Rips to take flight and attack. "That's Will," Grell murmured quietly, a hand upon Eric's broad shoulder,"why's it his Cinematic Rip?"

"I dunno, for the sake of anything we got let's just hope it goes after the demon." They watched Undertaker take a hold of the Rips by his bare hand and yank, he yanked as hard as he could until there was enough Cinematic Rips to pool around his feet. He continued to pull. The laughter died slowly, abating into soft chuckles that made the parlor alive in an eerie way. Grell huffed and clung to Eric even harder, he was tense at the slowness of Undertaker's movements.

It was quiet, just briefly, until Undertaker slowly started,"I made a deal a very long, long time ago, very long. So long and yet I still remember. That deal was for the man in this coffin, it was a very desperate one, he forgotten his motivation over years but he just does so, out of that calling of course. Now, as a human he could never accomplish such a thing but as a reaper, he had better chances."

_He's talking about William._ Grell thought so suddenly._  
><em>

Undertaker had suddenly stopped the pulling. "Earl, you can't see these so I might as well give you a history lesson briefly by hand. How far do you know of your family's history?"

Ciel, somewhere in the room, was placed down and answered,"I very much know enough to the first head of my family, Avalon Phantomhive."

"From what time period?"

"The late 1400s."

It was odd that Ciel was never making a hesitant response nor effort to leave. Sebastian could be heard breathing, faintly, and then folding his breath, waiting for an opening to escape. It could be possible that, as a human, Ciel could never feel the effects of the room and was completely oblivious. This would explain Undertaker's reason for asking than showing Cinematic Records to him. The said ma clucked his tongue.

"Do you know what he specifically did?"

"He put a stop to the first threat to the Crown, the rest is unsaid however due to him catching the Bubonic Plague a few years after. But his predecessors fallowing him were given the task of protecting England."

Undertaker grunted,"So you never know the details of that threat. There was a family, before the Phantomhives, known as the Spears, they worked under the sovereigns of England for centuries; they were a proud folk but got the job done when asked of. The event in which the last head of the family died in the Sacking of Wilshires; an order was issued to the Phantomhives to destroy that village because the Baron had gone mad, madder than the loons in a madhouse.

"Baron Spears ravaged nearby noble lands out of the cause of looking for the very beast that destroyed his life. You see, when you want revenge it'll make you do the most surprising things. He just killed and killed, so much blood to his hands, more than you made, until your family ended his. Now, before I go on, the beast I mentioned was a demon; Baron Spears devoted his life to looking for it and now here it is, along with the very blood that shattered his power."

Sebastian could be heard suddenly saying,"There were so many demons back then, you're insane to say I'm the one who caused this to him."

"Oh?" Undertaker chortled and released the Cinematic Rips, the slithered back into the coffin for the body. Simultaneously he turned to the open coffin and announced to whoever was in there,"I found what you have been looking for, it will not escape and neither will the Phantomhive." There was no response. "William T. Spears, rise to face your prey, do what I've held you back for these passed centuries."

And then a shade came shooting out from the coffin, out of sight and into the shadows. The sinister laugh Undertaker made under his breath made Grell cower into Eric's form, scared. Eric hissed,"What the fuck...man, what the fuck, don't tell me that that thing is Spears." Grell was compelled to hold his own breath until he felt a pair of strong arms take a firm hold of him and pull him away from Eric.

"Eric!" Grell shouted, the blond turned but was met by a sudden burst of Cinematic Rips shooting out from practically nowhere and entering the blond's throat. He heard Eric slump to the floor with a heavy thud, Grell screamed,"No! Don't leave me!" He kicked about, he turned his head to face Sebastian; the butler was frozen where he was, he looked fearful of the one holding Grell. "Help me! Sebastian! Oh god, help me!" He felt one arm snake over to his ribcage and take a firm grasp of it. "W-what're you...what-"

The hand began to crush his ribs, Grell screamed once more when a jolting pain radiated from where the hand was. He swore he heard something crack, he began to kick around once more, whimpering out of the excruciating jabs to his side. The sinister chuckles from Undertaker indicated that he was wholly enjoying this, watching the beginnings of his work's destruction. "Stop him!"

He watched Ciel's face, it went from indifferent to disgust to sheer terror. His eyes were wide and his mouth hung open, it was growing wider by the second when the pressure continued to his ribs; Grell eventually summoned the courage to face his assailant. He turned his head to the side and, out of the corner of his eye, he saw William. The man looked as normal as ever, only trodden down to exhaustion; the only difference were his eyes, which were boiling with a long forgotten hatred, and mouth, which was slightly open to allow his breathing to be more deep.

"Someone!" Grell cried, but none responded, even Undertaker had suddenly grown quiet. Grell suddenly felt the pressure had been lifted away from him, he gave a rigid sigh in relief and looked down to see the most horrific sight of his life.

William had a hand inside his ribcage, just below his left armpit where his ribcage would be the strongest, Grell could see William's hand immersed in the now broken skin and muscle and bone. This strange power, how can William have torn the skin off and crush his bones in one movement? Grell could only wonder for a moment until the sight registered to his mind and even more pain coursed through his body. He screamed once more, he was on the verge of collapsing but Wililam kept him up, supporting him without any hard effort.

Grell stopped kicking about, he felt a numbing feeling within his chest, then a very quick prick to his heart. His heart, was that what William was searching around for in his body? Another moment passed, flesh began to ooze around, creating a sucking noise that was sickening to the ears, Grell stopped breathing, the hand had suddenly pulled out. Within William's bare hand was Grell's heart, which had stopped beating when Grell had decreased his intake of air.

"Oh god," Grell heard Ciel say. The pudgy organ was fiddled with by William's hand until he began to crush it, slowly. The pain, there was so much. Grell could only watch in horror as his own heart was being destroyed, literally.

In the background, he heard Undertaker's voice,"Keep going, its only a warm up."

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	59. His Scarlet Effect

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji

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><p>Out of the darkness that Grell succumbed to, the redhead could only hear the familiar voices in the darkness. He wondered why, when he had just been standing, he was suddenly on his back. He tried to move his legs and arms but there was no use, he felt too paralyzed.<p>

He awoke, shooting upright, breaths hitching and his mind heart racing.

White. That was all he saw. He slowly came to realize that he was in bed, a bed of white save for the dark headboard.

"Eric?" He called out, trying to see if anyone can make sense of what had happened.

The voices stopped and a woman spoke out,"It seems he decided to wake up."

Grell slowly sat up, hands reaching out to the white bed curtains that shielded him from the outside world. Even his clothes were of pure snow, so pure that it made his porcelain skin come to shame in comparison. The scent of vanilla reached his nose, he grew curious as to where he has suddenly ended up. The curtains were drawn back, just slightly, so that he could see the familiar face of Heather, the youngest sister to Alan.

She glanced over to the unseen figure as if asking for permission to approach him.

"Go ahead and greet him."

She smiled at him and suddenly jumped into his lap, holding to him, hugging him. He was shocked but immediately returned her gesture. The young woman wrapped her arms around his chest and he gave her a reassuring squeeze before they pulled apart. She crawled over to his left and sat down, legs folded. "Grell, it's been so long!"

"What do you mean so long?" He inquired. The curtain was pulled back even more and tied to a post to show Ana dressed in a burgundy long-skirt and a white blouse that modestly covered her chest. Heather was dressed in a similar fashion, only with a blue skirt. He grew skeptical of the angel until she presented him with red framed glasses that had his beloved chains. "Where am I?" He reached out for his glasses. "How did you get those?"

"I'm sure you have much to ask, Grell, but if you are strong enough, you can come with me and I will tell you all I can," Ana explained, though she looked reluctant in her speech,"and you can meet up with the others."

"Others? What others? Is Eric here too?"

Heather nodded vigorously. "He's here, and Ronald-"

"Ronald?" Grell shouted, surprised. "He's dead! I saw him, I saw him die! He sliced himself open-"

He feverishly placed on his glasses and wore them. His view of the world became so clear, so perfect, he swore everything glowed in his eyes. He got out of bed, or tried to, only to succeed in nearly flopping to the side, but Heather leaped out of bed, catching him, supporting him. Ana shook her head and made her way to a pair of large doors at the entrance of the room. Grell's arm was slung over Heather's shoulders so that he would walk with her. He struggled for a moment, as if he were learning how to use his limbs.

"You'll be surprised at what I can do, Grell," Heather laughed under her breath as they slowly reached the door. Ana waited impatiently, she seemed to be in a rush.

"You've been asleep for nearly a decade, ever since that run-in you had with Undertaker," said Ana as they trudged into a corridor of the grand home. There were large windows to the left and golden decor lining the white walls to the right. Grell heard some doves crooning all around him, giving the place an almost heavenly feel. His bare feet padded against the marble flooring as he heard the women's shoes click against it.

"I thought I died too."

"No, just disemboweled-"

Heather snapped,"Ana!"

The churlish woman glared at her. "I should have left you in the Flood."

Grell felt lost, and he truly was. He glanced at Ana, she gave him a sympathetic look and said,"Being with Raoul had taught me many things and, lucky for you, I managed to stuff your heart back in place, mend your bones together, and put you back into one piece. Ronald was trickier than you but it was amazing that your death scythe barely did damage to his soul-"

"Yes, but it sliced off a few Cinematic Records permanently, so he suffers a bit of memory loss. I suppose that's good considering he doesn't know anything about being a human, you can almost say that the past-life is what drives people mad." Ana nodded to herself as they eventually turned a corner.

"I see," Grell numbly answered,"but I hate to go off topic but where am I?"

"Marseilles, France, you're at our main headquarters for Europe," Ana simply stated, gesturing out to the window. They had the perfect ocean view of the Mediterranean. She stopped them at a window and he peered through it. He could tell that the building overlooked some cliffs and a small village and port at the bottom of it all. Glancing to the left he could see a grand courtyard where several men were practicing swordplay. Leading from the courtyard was a large entrance with golden gates that went on into a long and winding path to the village, he could see carts and horses being lead up and down the road. From what he could observe, it looked like they were readying for some kind of war.

"...would it be safe to ask why?"

"Executioner can't exactly reach us here, and neither will Spears or Undertaker. You and any other reaper left in Europe are safe here."

Grell was confounded. "Wha-"

Ana gave an exasperated sigh,"This is why we need to meet up with everyone. To sum up what happened to your world, it was complete obliterated."

"That doesn't make any sense-"

"Nothing does, Grell," Heather murmured,"not since the Scarlet Effect was distributed worldwide, and that was after we saved you."

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><p>AN: Here we go, a much more satisfying ending that leads to a possible sequel!

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